


Seeing Velvet

by jssaylor



Category: Reign (TV), Teen Wolf (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, American - Freeform, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Ball, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, British, Car Sex, Chicago (City), College Student, Corporal Punishment, Crossover, Daddy Kink, Desire, Domestic Fluff, Erotica, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Fanfiction, Fifty Shades of Grey, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Graphic Novel, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Fanfiction, Inspired by Fifty Shades of Grey, Inspired by Teen Wolf (TV), Inspired by The Vampire Diaries, Jealousy, Kink Exploration, Loss of Virginity, Lust, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Masks, Masturbation, Multiple Crossovers, Nipple Play, Obsessive Behavior, Oral Sex, POV Cora Hale, Possessive Behavior, Power Play, Punishment, Romance, Romance Novel, Romantic Soulmates, Rough Sex, Secretly a Virgin, Secrets, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Roleplay, Sexuality, Shower Sex, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Spanking, Sugar Daddy, Teacher-Student Relationship, Temperature Play, True Love, Vaginal Sex, Voice Kink, Wealth, too many emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 02:44:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19454692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jssaylor/pseuds/jssaylor
Summary: When college student Ruby Collins agrees to accompany her roommate to a mysterious Masquerade Ball, little does she know she had made a choice that would drastically change her life forever.That night she finds herself drawn to James Wallace - a handsome, mysterious, British man who recently moved to Chicago to teach for the year.Doomed, Ruby embraces that night as their first and last and does everything in her reach to forget him.But when he walks into her class the next morning, she realizes there's only so much you can do to pull people who are destined to be in your life away.UNDERNEATH BEAUTIFUL MASKS, DIRTY SECRETS, HIDDEN PASTS... CAN SOMETHING REAL FLOURISH?Slip into a dark, obsessive love story that will haunt you for the rest of your life...





	1. PROLOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This work is a three-chapter sample. If you want to READ MORE CHAPTERS, I will be posting them only on WATTPAD:  
> https://www.wattpad.com/story/160765688-seeing-velvet

**WATCH THE[TRAILER](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmlPZXa-ZAk)**

_SONG: MY LOVE - SIA_

_ August 17th 2018, _

I breathe. I exist. But do I really?

I lie underneath the old oak tree which shadows half of the backyard. The mid-afternoon Bordeaux breeze hits my face deliciously as I gaze at the clear azure sky. For once in my life, it seems, everything is at ease.

In the calm of the moment, I realize I haven't experienced what it feels like to be truly alive in a long time - if ever. Even in the moments, like right this instance, where everything seems to be going perfectly and there's no pain, there is a persistent void in my soul signaling that something is missing. I know it has to be my fault. Maybe I'm too negative, or feel too intensely. Yet, even once in a blue moon when there's exciting things happening in my life, I feel stuck; incomplete.

I know I am the source of my own happiness. But how come I can never hold it for the long run? Why do I always break down with the slightest bump in the road? Why do I lose hope when I realize I've ran over that bump before?

I used to think the state of being happy would be permanent, like happy ever afters in every fairytale. Once you reach it it will never be taken from you. But the harsh reality is that it isn't like that. There's always ups and downs, pulls and shoves, sighs of relief and screams of horror. Just like a rollercoaster.

I feel like Rapunzel, locked away in a tower, forever waiting for the prince that might never exist. You can never know what's waiting the following day. All you have to do is keep up for one more day, every day. And hope. Or maybe I'm more like Snow White - eating the poisoned red apple every single day, thinking it's going to be so sweet. But it only kills me. Reality is sour to me and my expectations are poison - the fuel to my downfall. I should get rid of them. But it would be like giving up dreaming and coming down to a simply logical state of living. I can't drain myself out of my essence and become a walking robot in order to not suffer.

So perhaps the solution for my dilemma is to not allow myself to think. Or, at least, not overthink. Just be. Flow like a weightless leaf in the wind and see where life takes me. Less worries, less resentments... Be a brand new version of myself.

I've always held onto the belief that people can change, despite how impossible it might seem. It all comes down to their will to change.

 _I can do this,_ I tell myself, even though it will surely be a long and tough climb.

From somewhere in the back of my mind, the thought that I had dreamed something meaningful arrives. I roll over, laying on my back over the freshly-cut grass. I kick my scribbled notebook aside and close my eyes. My hands wander over the short lawn around me, like crafting angels in the snow. I breathe in and I see the faint, tall figure of a man in a dark alley. He swiftly turns around when he senses me. Hypnotizing blue eyes find mine and I have the intrusive feeling that I know him, somehow. But I've never seen his face before.

I'm amazed at how vivid my remembrance is. It's as if I'm dreaming all over again. He's the ultimate immersive déjà vu. The ones which makes you certain to have happened in real life.

By an unknown reason I'm drawn to him, like trying to find out how you know someone. And when the palm of my hand finds his face in a shy caress, like the one of the wind to the wild flowers on the meadow at the distance from where I lay, I just know it's _him._

 _—_ _vote & comment _ _—_


	2. THE MASK

  
_When I saw you, I fell in love._   
_And you smiled because you knew._   
_\- William Shakespeare_   
  
  
  
  


**SOMETHING VELVET**

Autumn leaves - never cease to fill me with meaningless joy and nostalgia.

I am glad for the row of colorful trees by my window in this late afternoon. They're the best indicators of the seasons and the wind. Aside from being pretty, they can have several purposes.

As my roommate hadn't arrived yet to claim her bed, I decide to choose the one in the corner, closest to the window, and further from the door. This way I could always have a view of the outside world and not feel claustrophobic in this tiny, stuffy dorm.

Our bedroom is plain white with grey-carpeted floor and contains only the essentials - two single wooden beds, a matching dresser and closet, two nightstands, a desk and a mini fridge next to the door. The beds have no pillows, sheets or any sort of covers and I'm quick to realize the closet is also empty and carries no hangers at our disposal. I'm suddenly reminded by the email my roommate sent me last night, telling me she'd have her uncle deliver the missing essentials at some point today and we'd split the bill.

I drop by luggage on my new bed. They are heavy, but not as much as my heart. I am going to miss home, terribly. At best I would be fine until next week. But one week can feel like eternity sometimes. Before I start re-thinking and regretting my life choices, I opt for making a list in my mind of the things I am happy about being in college instead.

_1\. Meeting new people_

Although I'm not the most extroverted, social butterfly on earth - more the opposite, to be frank - I'm excited to find more mature, less judgmental colleagues and, hopefully, make real friends.

_2\. Classes_

Like any school year, I'm probably going to regret this in a couple of weeks, but learning new things - this time things I _really_ want and will help me in my desired job - is enriching and healthy.

After a silent moment, nothing else came to mind.

In any other day being away from home would make it third on the list, as I love my independence and I hate loving being alone. But I would miss not going home for 2 entire months, if not longer.

One of the top things my young, naive self would include in this list would be love. Easy, perfect love... Something I don't know. Not only because I've never been in love, but how could you know something that doesn't exist? At least not in my world.

I hear noises coming from the hallway which startle me, then the muffled sound of keys jiggling. And the door is opened.

An incredibly tanned girl walks in, only carrying a suitcase on her hand. Her silhouette is to die for - model-like slim, although she's a little shorter than me. Her hair is straighten and dyed a light shade of ombré. She's dressed way more casual than me - touching sporty -, with black leggings, white platform sneakers, a tube top and a leather jacket over it. She's one of those girls you want to be friends with, but would never be friends with you.

When she sees me she acknowledges me with ogling eyes. And they're very big by nature.

"Oh, you're already here!" Her voice is soft, high-pitched but delicate, not exactly matching her appearance or the vibe she gives off.

I nod and approach her quietly, watching as she leaves her "E.Z" marble-patterned suitcase next to the now closed door.

"Hi, I'm Ruby." I smile politely. "Nice to meet you."

From up close I notice her Keira Knightly features and hazel eyes, which gave her a rather exotic look. _She's gorgeous._

"I'm Eleanor." She smiles back. "Nice to meet you."

Like any other time, I stand there in front of her, awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. Until she speaks again:

"Have you arrived here long ago?"

Questions. I liked questions. They always helped me speak for longer than the basics and maintain a normal conversation. I'm such a sucker for self-isolation...

"Not really." I shake my head. "20 minutes, at best."

"'Cause I was on the way here and there's a package in front of the door."

Only when she mentions it I spot the black velvet box she was holding. It looks like something you would keep your jewelry in, not use as a package.

"There's no name, no address, nothing." She says. "I assumed it was for you, so I didn't open it."

I'm instantly filled with curiosity, wondering what was inside that box, if it was something from Rosevelt.

"It's not." I say, mildly uncertain.

She hands me the mysterious box anyway. I hesitate to open.

"Isn't it for you?"

"I doubt it. But open it."

Even under a certain pressure and curiosity, I keep my hands still.

"I don't think we should open it. We don't know what it holds inside, or if it's for someone else."

She eyes me serious now, honestly. And it makes me trust her almost immediately.

"It was _literally_ by our door, over the tiny rug. It's for us."

"Okay." I finally give in.

I take a deep breath before I decide to unravel the mystery. When I pull the lid up I find it wasn't even sealed. Anyone could have easily opened it if they wanted to. So no one would know that we did, in case it wasn't meant for us.

My lips part in amazement. Inside are two masks; Masquerade masks - one silver, one golden. Fairly detailed. I look back at Eleanor, confused as ever.

"What?" She says before moving closer. Her thick brows furrow when she stands beside me, "Masks? What for?"

In the end she's as bewildered as me. So I know there's not a chance it would be her messing with me.

"I have no idea." I say, and then I notice the velvet lining on the bottom hid a matching paper. "Wait, there's a note."

It read:

_"Dear, Ms. Zara_

_You are invited to our annual Masquerade Ball taking place tonight in Bel Ami Street, 7A at 22:00h._

_You must pick one of the masks to carry. Formal attire is also required._

_We are counting on you."_

"Who's Zara?" I question, after I flip the note to make sure there isn't anything else written on the other side.

"It's me. It's my last name."

"Oh."

"But I have no clue what this is or who sent me this."

I fiddle with the slim box, adoring the velvet embellishments in its borders. They were like almost-transparent grey curves and spirals, which gave it a vintage edge.

"I'm sure they had no intention of you knowing either. It seems like a very private event."

Eleanor sits on her bed and sighs.

"What the hell... I don't know if I should go."

"Yeah, it can be dangerous." I agree.

"But then we'd never find out, right?"

"Right." I brush my shoulders, "It's your choice."

Eleanor folds her arms, pondering quietly. And I come to the terms with the fact that my body is exhausted and I am just so ready to slip into my cozy pajamas and try my new bed.

"I want to go but I can't go alone." She says. And what I never saw coming occurs: She's making puppy eyes. And pouting. Double trouble. "Would you please come with me?"

Truth be told: that move actually worked, somehow. I'm astonished and slowly melting over her Kim Possible trick.

"I don't think it's a good idea. We have classes tomorrow morning." I remind her and the part of me that was caving in.

She stands up from her bed and jumps to me with a childish smile on her face. One of her arms rest over my back when she sits down beside me. Too make it worse she smelled amazing - like the sweetest apple.

"Please! It'll be fun! I'll be safer with you. Plus, they sent an extra mask. You can wear it." Her excitement is nearly contagious.

"What if we get kidnapped or something?" I warn, using my last weapons.

She laughs, hysterically. Perhaps at my straight face - which I'm sure carried heavy dark circles.

_I should've had a coffee this morning, for sure._

"Don't be so dramatic. You'll regret thinking that, you'll see. It's just a ball. We should feel special to have been invited."

"You were." I clarify. "Not me."

"They put it by _our_ door. We're a family now. Family means nobody is left behind."

I chuckle.

"Isn't that a line from Lilo and Stitch?"

"Yes." She nods, smiling too. "You won't let me go alone, will you?"

"Fine." I give in, even though I know we probably won't end up having enough sleep. "You're lucky you're cute, you know?"

"Aw, you are too!"

She hugs me from the side, briefly, then jumps from my bed.

"But I'm already sleepy, so I'll need to be convinced until then."

"I know what can help you." Her eyes shine with mischievousness like a little kid up to no good and I'm slightly scared of what's to come.

Eleanor stands up and walks over to her side of the room. She opens her egg-shaped suitcase and then there's a bottle of vodka in her hand.

"No..." I shake my head in disbelief. "You brought alcohol in here?

"Well, truth be told I thought you'd be a nerd and a pain in the ass and we wouldn't get along. So I had to bring company, since they don't allow dogs here."

_I'm sure they don't allow alcohol in here too. But okay._

She brings the transparent bottle to her lips and chugs it down like it's water.

"Have a sip." She offers it to me.

I shake my head.

"I'm not really a fan of alcohol, but thanks."

She walks back to me and dumps the vodka in my hands.

"It's not a question. Come on."

"Okay." I sigh. "But we're not getting drunk."

"Of course not." She agrees.

I imitate her, except I don't remain with the bottle on my mouth for longer than two seconds.

I'm not amazed. It's strong but it doesn't taste like much, just pure ethanol. I clench my eyes briefly and when I open them Eleanor is looking at me with a prideful grin.

"God, I just realized I didn't bring any dresses with me." _Rather than my nightgown. But that is so not suitable for a ball. If it actually is a proper ball._

"You didn't pack any dresses?" She gapes at me and I panic on the spot.

I shake my head slowly, starting to fill with regret for some reason. So I drink again, trying to calm my nerves.

"Girl..." She throws me a disapproving look, then turns her back at me. She lays her suitcase on her bed before opening it again. This time she takes some garment out, "Here."

I only see the shadow of a dress flying towards me. I grab it still in the air and I'm surprised at her lack of care. I display it in my bed. It's a beautiful black crepe gown, with golden embellishments in the collar.

"Now please tell me you have heels of some sort."

I nod, remembering to have thrown the plain black stilettos I bought for prom in my suitcase at last minute.

"Thank Goodness." She sighs, perhaps as relieved as me.  
  


The night which should've been about staying in and unpacking and resting for the big day ahead of us takes the opposite turn. We end up ordering Domino's and getting ready for the mystery Masquerade Ball instead.

Eleanor has her iPhone's music playing on speakers and we bond as we help each other with makeup and hair and zippers.

The top of our shared dresser is a mess, covered with all sorts of hair and makeup products - lipsticks, foundations, eye-shadow pallets, mascaras, hairspray, hot tools... I stand before the elongated mirror next to the door once I manage to get inside the dress. Eleanor was a size smaller than me, but to my luck and surprise, I could fit in her dress. 

"You look stunning." She says, standing next to me with a proud smile.

"Thank you. You do too."

Her dress was deep red with a V-neck and silver appointments on the collar and buttons, and her hair was thrown on the side in luxurious Old-Hollywood-like waves. She had opted for a bold cat eye and nude lips, while I had decided to stick to drawing attention to my lips instead, with a cherry red lipstick and neutral eyes. 

"I just don't know what to do with my hair exactly." I tell her. It was always such a handful every morning.

"I think you should pull it up in some sort of classy chignon." She suggests.

Without needing permission, she grabs my hair with both hands and twists and turns it around until I can't keep track of what it's looking like behind me. I only know it's hanging low on my nape and there's about a dozen of bobby pins tangled in my hair.

"Turn around."

I do as told and she pulls a few front strands of my hair out.

"Done." She smiles triumphantly at me and I'm amazed by her skills.

I finally look at myself in the mirror and I barely recognize myself.

_Wow._

"Now the final touch..." Eleanor grabs the velvet box I had left in my bed and holds it out for me, "Pick one."

I take the gold one without much hesitation. It was my favorite shade of metal and the first to have caught my eye.

"Thank God. This matches my dress perfectly." She says.

We both laugh before putting our masks on. It's as if it was destined.

"Your eyes look insane with that mask on." I gasp. She looked like an actual supermodel.

"Thank you. And look at you: a real-life princess."

I coyly smile with her compliment.

"I just hope this won't be in vain." I say, starting to become nervous. This was so out of my comfort zone.

"Think positive. And, well, if it is we'll have amazing selfies for all it's worth."

  
  
_SONG: CHICAGO - FRANK SINATRA_

It's getting cold outside. While I slide into the passenger seat of Eleanor's vintage white Mini Cooper, I regret not having brought any type of layer with me.

The alcohol is starting to manifest inside me, making me giddy but also sleepy. I feel like I won't even make it there. And the ball will probably be dull as well, so I can't find big motivation anywhere.

"I like your car. I just hope you didn't have too much to drive." I alert as I'm buckling my seat belt.

"Chill." She glances at me. She looks better than me - more lively and conscious. "It were only a few sips. We're good."

_A few sips?!_

I conclude she might have a higher alcohol tolerance and decide to let it go.

She starts the car and the engine grumbles loudly. It sounds relatively old, like a car that was passed down generations. Suddenly I remember I know nothing about Chicago and it's locations.

"Do you know how to get there?"

"Not exactly." She shows me the screen of her phone - it was opened on the Google Drive app. "That's why we have a GPS these days."

"Right."

We pull off the parking lot behind the campus. The whole University seemed to have gone to sleep. There was no noise or people around and barely any lighting, aside from the street lights and a couple of lit dorm windows.

In that moment I am glad to have Eleanor with me. Despite her careless nature, I am happy to have met her and be on this little adventure instead of being stuck in my dorm all alone, probably reading a sad-ending novel.

I lean my head against the rigid backseat, watching as she takes one hand off the wheel to turn the A.C.

"Do you want some music?" She turns to me and I'm surprised that she asked.

I nod my head. I can feel my eyes becoming heavy and struggling to focus as the time went by.

"Otherwise I think I might fall asleep." I confess.

The radio music fills the silence as we head farther from the city center and venture into the outskirts. I don't pay much attention to it, unlike the ever-changing view from my window.

In the heart of the city what was never missing was blinding light and people and illusive warmth. Every skyscraper was alive, in every street there was noise and color, and time didn't matter. It was like a different universe. In that Autumn night I fall in love with Chicago and its effervescence.

"How long 'till we get there?" I turn to Eleanor. Despite looking awake the last thing I wanted was to get distracted and risk letting her fall asleep on the wheel.

"If my phone is correct we're nine minutes from our destination." She says in a professional tone.

When we get to Edens Expressway I sense the car speeding up, and it felt like we are going faster than we actually are.

We drive straight through calm and friendly-looking neighborhoods filling the silence with the latest pop hits. Until I decide to engage in small talk.

"So, do you know anyone that goes to Roosevelt?"

"Yeah, I do. A friend of mine from high school is studying Sociology there, too."

"Cool." I say, although I was a tad sad I seemed to be the only person who didn't know anyone there - except for Eleanor now.

"Are you nervous?"

_About what exactly?_

I glance her way and she notices my confusion.

"About starting college?"

"Oh. Yes, in fact."

"It'll be fun, you'll see." She forces a smile, like she's one of the seniors trying to make the new kids feel less anxious. "Aside from studying, there's many parties to make up for it."

_Parties were never really my thing. But, then again, we're just heading to one._

The car stops in a short, dead-end street. All the houses barely had light, except for one - a little mansion on our left. The creme-brick house had one floor and one balcony with a seemingly large terrace where lounge music came from.

"Wow..." I hear Eleanor say before opening the door.

I follow after her, my little hairs bristling all over my body. It was getting colder and colder.

She carefully pulls the lofty, iron gate open without much hesitation. It was unlocked. We enter inside the property and walk to the main door.

"It's weird that no one's outside." Eleanor comments, and I agree. But this clearly wasn't some frat party.

When we walk inside we're greeted by a middle aged woman standing in the empty, all-white marble hallway.

"Good evening, ladies." She says, holding out two drinks on a tray for us. It looks like champagne. _Are we celebrating something?_

Eleanor accepts the drink.

"You don't want one, Miss?" The redhead woman eyes me intensely.

I shake my head, politely.

"No, thank you."

"Okay. First door on your left." She instructs, all polite and distant.

I'm almost pulled from my spot by Eleanor. _She is clearly excited with all the mystery._ Me? I'd rather keep it to myself and not risk putting my expectations sky high, like usual.

_ SONG: LA VIE EN ROSE - LADY GAGA _

She opens the double door and we're suddenly in a large saloon. A ballroom.

"Wow..." I'm the one to say it this time. I can't believe my eyes.

Everyone is dressed to the nines, with elegant suits and gowns, and all the women with faces hidden behind Venetian masks like ours. Jazz music is playing from thoroughly-hidden speakers. In French. 

_Wow... It's beautiful._

I see a dark blonde man cast me a glance from the other side of the ballroom. But unlike all the men before, when he holds my gaze he never lets go. It's like he could feel my presence when I walked in. As an instinct, I look behind my back, sure that he must be staring at someone else. 

There are good-looking girls everywhere - some alone, some with pairs - hidden behind elaborated masks like me. But they all seemed pretty. _Could easily be any of them._

My eyes track him again, somehow not bearing many seconds away from his intriguing existence. His face is familiar, but I can't dig out where I know him from.

Like under a spell, I'm lured to him. But he's not staring my way when I find his face again, which makes me doubt if he ever was.

I take the opportunity to take a languid look at him. 

He's very tall - at the towering height of 6'2 or 6'3 - already so overpowering in his essence. His body is slim yet not lanky, and his hair is perfectly combed back in loose golden waves. He's breathtakingly beautiful. By far the most beautiful man I remember to have seen.

I feel myself being slowly set on fire with such realization. 

He's standing in the furthest corner, talking to five other men who also weren't dancing like the rest; who were vaguely attractive.

 _Jeez! My self esteem is through the roof..._

They looked like they belonged to an elite gentlemen group in their boldly-expensive suits, shaved faces and shiny shoes. Yet none of them caught my eye like he did.

Aside from his looks and posture, he was the only wearing a velvet suit, and the only staring back at me. 

"I need to use the restroom." Eleanor says after what it seemed to be forever, now standing beside me. I wonder what took her so long. "My lipstick is fading and I have to touch up."

I manage to take my eyes off him, still feeling my hormones running wild.

"Okay." I nod. "I'll be here."

She frowns as she slides her purse from her shoulder and holds it with her hands. It's a deep grey - Guess - but its countless sparkles could blind anyone if they stared for too long.

"Aren't you coming?"

"No. I'm good." I'm all shrugs and nods and wide eyes in that moment. If she had known me longer I would've already been caught.

"With the amount of water you drank on the way here?"

She is clearly surprised with my bladder of steel, but it wasn't complaining yet. Nothing was, besides my shyness and insecurities.

"Honestly, I'm good." I make sure to reassure her. She could definitely be at my level of persistence. "You go ahead."

_My lipstick may not agree, but it's the least thing I care about right now._

"Alright. I'll be right back." She smiles and leaves.

Something about Eleanor was so neutral and light and captivating, like the brightest butterfly carried by the breeze of a summer day. Something tells me I can trust her and won't end up regretting it.

I search for him again - this time desperately, in fear he had left or was a mere project of my imagination. He's still there, in the same circle of mysterious men.

This time his lips move quicker; he seems to be in a rush. Suddenly, I notice he has caught me gawking.

_Shit._

He turns around, so he's now facing my way, and moves through the people dancing, confident, not minding to circle them. His eyes are on mine, his dark velvet suit the chandelier to the room. It was so discreet but still managed to caught everyone's attentions. Like him.

My breathing fails me when I realize that he's walking towards me. In my mind I look like Scream by Edvard Munch.

I'm immediately enthralled by him, by the way he moves, his micro expressions, his impact. My body freezes like he has full control over it. All I can see is his lips part before they bloom into a dazzling, mischievous smile. Subconsciously, I'm aware a part of me believes he opened his mouth in amazement, or maybe even to catch his breath.

Everyone around him becomes a blur to my eyes - dancing shadows, a mere background. In that instance I'm nothing but a chess piece , waiting for his command, waiting for his touch. Then, suddenly, he's so close and I'm already so fascinated by his unmemorized, unforgettable face, and the way he carries himself and the astounding impact he has on me. He is far more handsome up close.

My hands flatten the front of my dress, yet his eyes don't accompany my motions - they seem captive in mine. When he stops before me - at a guarded yet daring distance - I can smell his fragrance amid all the smells in the room. It's unusual, ravishing, seductive...

"So beautiful and so alone in a night like this." He says and I immediately realize that he's British. _Woah_. I'm taken aback by all of him.

His voice is naturally low, lightly raspy and smoky. Very manly. It makes me shiver. And his lips, unlike I've seen in any other man - so full, in a vivid raspberry color. They're instantly alluring by nature.

Suddenly I can't think straight anymore. It takes me a tortuously embarrassing moment before my brain can actually process his question.

"I... My friend just went to the restroom." I shake my head, realizing he had probably not understood me. "I mean, the toilet."

"Beautiful voice as well." He gazes at me intensely before he offers me a light chuckle. "I understood what you meant."

The man scoots closer to me, as a waltz starts filling the wide saloon in mezzo tempo. Just in perfect timing.

"I'm glad you didn't come alone." He cocks his head, smiling wider. "Sadly, she's going to have to find another partner because I'm stealing you for a dance."

He reaches out his hand for me to hold. It's big, and in some of his fingers he carries bold, intricate rings. And, unlike any man I've ever seen, he can pull it off.

"If you give me the pleasure, of course."

When I glance back up at him I find sincerity in his dark blue eyes. He felt so much like a fallen angel dressed as a prince.

_Oh my. And they say we should lose our hope in men because they no longer come with the gentleman gene in them._

"I will." I say bashfully, my hidden excitement jumping through the roof. And he was my trampoline.

When he takes my hands, attaching them with his, I thank God I had decided to go to a few dance classes last Summer. Although, I'm very aware even if I had a heavy feet I wouldn't be able to turn down that mesmerizing man.

Through his dancing eyes he's openly smiling at me, and I don't have my hands free to shield the growing blush on my cheeks. In that moment I wonder:

_How could he call me beautiful and stare at me like the most exquisite piece of art when there's a mask on my face?_

"Still, I am dancing with a nameless beauty." He utters, bringing me out of my thoughts. "May I know your name?"

"Ruby." I smile back, contained.

"Ruby..." He tastes the feel of it. For the first time in my life I like the way it sounds. "Nameless Ruby, I'm enchanted to meet you."

Despite my practice I still manage to mess up the steps, far too lost in him, _on_ him. I want to hide my face once again, as I'm fully aware I've made a fool of myself and people around must've noticed, too.

Humans aren't perfect, but every time you're with someone you want to impress it feels like you have to be the closest to perfection possible; the best version of yourself. And for the sake of me I wanted to, if I could.

One of his hands leaves mine to slip down my waist, guiding me along. And I allow it. My hormones tickle me inside, tortuously good. But I feel safe. Nervous, but weirdly safe, in a stranger's arms. So that I feel an inexplicable need to run my hand across his soft cheeks. And I realize I want to kiss him really badly - a total stranger.

"So, what led you here tonight?" He entices conversation.

I can't help but wonder if he had danced with more girls before I arrived. If he had asked the exact same questions, had made them blush with his compliments and subtle touches. And if all we would ever have is this dance - our first and last dance - and never meet again.

I taste the bittersweet of this moment, like salted caramel. I don't want to leave. I don't want him to leave. I don't want him to forget this, forget me. Like I know I will never forget him.

"My friend, actually. I'm not a big fan of night-time parties, to tell the truth."

One pair, who very likely had had enough to drink, bumps against me. I turn my head to find a woman with curly blonde hair utter a not-so-convincing "I'm sorry", before resuming her inconsistent dance.

"It's fine." I say, not sure if they heard me, and brush it off.

When I turn back to him he's frowning, seemingly annoyed by their rude behavior. His hands on my waist get instantly firmer, pulling me even closer to him. Close enough for a sexy salsa, not a formal waltz.

I stop breathing for a second. There's something so domineering and addictive about the way he touches and takes control of my body, and all of me, down to my hypocenter. And I can feel my walls shaking - the fault beginning to rupture - threatening to fall over such powerful force.

"Well, I will have to thank your friend, then." He says and I realize he's proceeding our conversation where we left off. "If it wasn't for her I wouldn't be dancing."

If I didn't have a mask on, I'm sure I could feel his breathing against my forehead. And just that realization alone makes me urge to kiss him even more.

"That can't be true." I mock, "I'm sure most girls in this room would line up to dance with you."

"But none of them are you." He's quick to remark. His mouth is set in a straight line, but his eyes are full of life.

I feel my cheeks heat up once more. But I decide to keep verbal distance. If responded to him with flirtatious words I would end up deceived and hurt.

"You haven't told me your name yet."

"You've got a mask on, I don't." He points out, lightheartedly, "Can't I carry some mystery as well?"

I roll my eyes, not enjoying the fact that it was so hard to obtain something from him. _You carry enough already, trust me._

"Why do you ask a hundred questions, but you can't answer a single one of mine?" I make my point.

By the slight pout settling on his lips I can tell he's pondering my request for a quiet moment.

"Fair enough." He gives in with a nod. "I'm James."

 _James... that's hot._ Even more said in a British accent _._

Pleased, I smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, James."

_Shit. I can't believe I just said that. No. I'm the one who over-analyzes and finds two meanings in everything._

Before I can evaluate his face, he's swirling me around underneath his arm, my dress undulating in the center of the ballroom. I notice no one had done this move but him.

"The pleasure is all mine." Is what awaits me when I'm face to face with him again.

He grins at me and it reaches his eyes. Still I can spot a trace of mischievousness taking over his always intense and wicked gaze. Then, for the briefest second, he shifts his eyes to my cleavage.

My cheeks heat back up instantly, my legs feeling unstable, and I'm self conscious about my appearance. Despite, I try my best not to peek at my chest to see if I am showing more than I intend.

_Distance. Keep the distance._

"So, what about you?" I raise my voice. The question takes him by surprise. "What brought you here?"

"I am a great friend of the man who organizes these annual balls. But this is actually the first time I've attended."

_Me too._

"Why?"

_He must be a busy man. Or maybe never saw the great appeal of it, like me._

"I've moved here this month. To an unknown city - which is quite reckless, I admit. So I was never able to come before."

"You just moved? From England?" I ask, a bit too eagerly.

I don't know how to feel. Lucky, perhaps, that fate brought us together. But I fear the worst. I need to know the answer.

"Permanently?" My voice is faint.

My heart is pounding on my chest, as if asking me why - Why would I put myself in this position? In my mind I can see myself hopeful-eyed, idiotically desperate for the convenient answer.

"Unfortunately, no. I'm loving the city so far, but it's just a temporary job I got. A little dream of mine. My entire life is in England."

"Congratulations." I fake a smile. Not fake because I wasn't happy for his accomplishment, but because I couldn't be happy knowing my tiny chances had just got severely diminished. And I don't think I could ever stand a long-distance relationship for long if it were to work out.

I slap myself back to reality.

_Stupid! You'd never stand a chance with a man this beautiful._

"Thank you." He smiles, sincere and beautiful. He's all sorts of beautiful. Even when he's making my heart ache.

"How long, then?" I have to ask.

"A year. Maybe less."

Suddenly I feel like crying. I am so vulnerable and oversensitive. I've never felt this way before, much less around someone. How is this happening?

_One year. Okay I can deal with it. Better that than nothing. No. Stop! He'll never want you, and this could never work out either way. It's not like he can develop feelings for you and you can change his mind. It's a sad ending - would be - deal with it._

"Are you okay?" I hear his voice, then I realize I had been looking away for the past troubling seconds my inner monologue lasted.

"Yes, sorry." I hush to think of a plausible excuse. Other than 'I am really, stupidly, deeply infatuated with you and I don't want you to leave me.' "I think one of my lashes fell in my eye."

He leans forward - so close to me - his eyes gradually squinting. And then I notice we're the only pair not moving in the center of the ballroom.

"Let me help you."

"Oh, it's fine." I shake my head, pretending to be removing something from my eye. But the truth is that I don't think I'm going to find something and I'm scared he finds out I lied. "I'll manage by myself."

One of his hands is suddenly on my face, holding it as if he was to give me the sweetest kiss I know he was capable of giving. His other hand remains secure on my waist.

The touch of him somewhere else on my skin is electrifying, intoxicating. I want more. But I can't. And I have been fine with not having everything I want in life, including men. Yet I've never come across with someone so terribly tempting.

I can sense it: This man is going to be my downfall.

"I insist. It's not like you can see your eyes."

_Good point._

If I wasn't so hypnotized by him I would laugh. He checked every box. Every single damn box...

His thumb carefully runs below my eye, over my bottom lashes, like dragging something along. And I wonder if he had caught something. For my own sake, he better have.

I think I see hesitation before he withdraws his hand.

"Make a wish."

He raises his hand again. And now he has his index and his thumb pressed together.

I think. And think again, trying not to wish for the first thing that came to my mind - the only thing I can think about; the only think I remember I want.

_I want to be yours._

I look up at him and I can tell he knows I have done it already.

"Thank you."

"I won't ask what you wished for not to ruin your luck. But I have to say that I'm curious to know."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Maybe you'll find out one day. Who knows?"

_If it becomes true. Which, with my tremendous amount of luck, it won't._

"Oh, I hope so." It sounds like a promise.

We aren't moving yet. The realization makes me anxious. We are only staring at each other, studying each other. I can't handle it. I just want to throw myself on him, to be his.

_I'm going crazy._

"You have very beautiful, long lashes." He says, his smile long gone by now. "Not to mention your eyes. I don't recall ever seeing this marvelous, intricate Jade color on someone before."

At this point I'm sure I don't even have time to stop blushing, as his compliments didn't seem to take a break.

"I find yours prettier." I have the guts to say, and I'm secretly admired with myself. I was never the spontaneous, always-speaks-their-mind type.

He shrugs his broad shoulders.

"Plain blue. Nothing extraordinary. Runs in the family."

I take a closer look, leisurely studying them. His every other feature turns blurry but his almond-shaped eyes.

"Well, they're turquoise blue - my favorite color." I confess. And then I regret it.

But maybe that regret would only last a few minutes and disappear as the night went by. Unlike the worst kind, which appeared later on and haunted you for the rest of your life.

I'm grateful to see his eyes light up from my words, tiny crinkles appearing at each corner. And I don't care if he's a bit older than me - he's unlike anything I've seen; unlike anyone I've written about.

"I think you just made me proud of them for the first time."

_I'm proud that I'm managing to keep my posture._

I smile at him, content yet contained. But inside I'm wondering what they might have seen - if maybe it was so horrible he'd wished he didn't have them. That would explain this words.

 _Stop making assumptions! You don't even know him!_ I slap myself again.

But maybe I could?

I feel his hand on the small of my back, as if he was going to pull me closer to resume our dance. But he doesn't.

"I'm afraid this waltz is over, anyway." He jokes and I notice people around switching pairs and leaving the dance-floor to stand back and watch others.

We had missed nearly half of the song standing there. I feel self-conscious, thinking everyone had been staring at us - mostly me - like we're idiots. But he catches my attention back:

"Would you like to join me for a drink?"

Suddenly, I don't know how to function under pressure. And I'm nervous - at least twice as before.

"I... I can't." I shake my head.

 _Dumb!_ My subconscious yells at me.

"Why? Don't tell me you're underage."

"No. In England I wouldn't be. I just, I have my friend waiting for me and we can't be home so late. But thank you for the dance."

I pull away. I don't know what else to say. I just know know I'm making a fool of myself and ruining my chances of ever being with him again. Or maybe I'm playing hard to get without meaning to and he's liking the chase.

He holds out his wrist and stares down at an old-looking watch I didn't see he had. It was gold-plated quartz and expensive.

"It's only a quarter till midnight now." He utters. "Don't pull a Cinderella on me."

_Only..._

I laugh. He's looking at me ever so amused and endeared I bite the insides of my cheeks to hold myself together.

"I think I must." I nod my head when I get myself together. And I can tell he knows I haven't even convinced myself, to begin with.

"You think? So you're not sure." I see him flicker one brow, his gaze darkening. "Are you afraid of something?"

_Yes. Too many things, to be honest._

"Why would I be?" I pretend indifference.

"Then come with me." He offers his hand for me to take. "I promise not to take you more than a couple of minutes."

I am easily subdued by his persistence. Although I was never easy and enjoyed playing a little hard to get, I was already under his spell.

"Okay." I roll my eyes, keeping my attitude. If I didn't my body would dramatically fall against his and melt like a damsel in distress. "I just need to find my friend first. She has my purse."

"Alright." He nods, a grin not leaving his dazzling face for an instance. "I'll be waiting."

As I walk away I sense my legs wobbling, still shaking. I can't barely walk properly.

It's hard leaving him, letting go of him, even if just for an instance. And then I realize tonight will be one of the hardest nights of my life.

 _What have I gotten myself into?_ I think as I scan the room in search for Eleanor. I don't know what to expect or what to fear anymore. Everything is a mess. A beautiful mess.

I'm admired I am quick to spot her in a corner, as my sight still couldn't focus on things - except on him.

She's leaning against a wall, standing alone with a drink. She seems bored. I instantly feel for her.

"I leave for a couple of minutes and you already have a handsome man dancing with you." She says, mixing her cocktail with the straw.

"He asked me." I shrug. "I wouldn't turn him down."

"Right." The sarcasm is evident in her voice. "It must've been hard to look at him throughout those six, seven minutes."

"It was, but I'm not mean like you." I joke.

I fish my phone from my purse to check the time, partially wanting to avoid all the inquiring as well. Two birds with one stone.

_It's late. Shit. Tomorrow I have to be up at seven. I can't do it._

"It's ten to midnight. Are you ready to go or do you wanna stay a bit longer?"

"No." She's blunt. "This party is getting really boring. The same dull music, same dance... The free drinks kind of made it worth it, but we'll never agree to attend these private parties again."

I glance back one more time. I see him next to the group of dark-suited men he was previously with. He catches me staring and I immediately turn away, hating having lied to him.

"Someone changed her mind." I tell her, saving my phone. "Guess I was right, wasn't I?"

Eleanor takes another sip at her Martini - I assume. _Thank Goodness it_ _'s_ _almost finished_.

" _I_ was right when I told you we should've had two or three drinks before coming here." She says and drops her glass on the sill of the window behind us.

"Let's go?" I hush, and then her face gradually falls down.

"Ready?" I hear him behind me, making my heart nearly jump from my chest. He must've taken that as an invitation. "Or do you intend on running away?"

_Dammit._


	3. THE VEST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying so far! Let me know in the comments! Xx

**SOMETHING NEW**

I don't have the strength to face him, ashamed with myself now that he found out.

"She is. And no, she's not running away." Eleanor speaks for me and, before I know, it's too late to stop her.

In return, I give her the 'killer eyes' and snatch my purse off her hand. Then, sweating inside, I turn to him.

"Yes I'm ready."

James smiles at me, warm and sweetly.

"Good." He looks at Eleanor. "Thank you."

She nods, but her eyes are shinning. I can see what she's doing. I'll remember to discuss this later behind closed doors.

"I'll meet you here in ten." I tell her and she just blinks at me before I leave.

Once more, he holds out his hand and, this time, I take it. I get chills while he leads me out of the ballroom in silence, hand protectively holding mine. I try my best to disguise the fact that I'm struggling to breathe again.

We head down the corridor until I realize we're going in the direction of a grey stone staircase. Despite having tipsy people nearly colliding against us when they walk by, he never lets go of my hand when we climb the stairs.

He's taken me to a rooftop?

I look around in amazement. That place seemed like it was destined to an elite after-party. There were lounge chairs - very comfortable-looking -, a bar surrounded with people in the same elegant suits and dresses, music playing from God knows where, but quieter than inside. So that you could hear the cold, Autumn breeze.

"What would you like to drink?" James asks from where he stood next to me.

I'm ashamed to tell him I'm not very experienced, nor a fan, on alcoholic drinks. So I find a way around.

"Whatever you'll have." I tell him with a confident tone.

"My tastes are too strong for you, love. You wouldn't handle them."

I find his eyes immediately. They're ever-so-intense gazing back at mine in his typical playful mischief.

Try me.

"I would suggest something lighter, like a Sex on The Beach." He says, keeping his eyes lightly squinted. They're suggestive. I can't bare holding them for too long.

"I've never tried that." I confess.

Only when I see his lips part I realize what I just said. But he doesn't give me time to rectify - or dig myself deeper, which would be the most probable scenario.

"You'll like it." He glances at the bar area. "It's sweet and fruity. Doesn't have much alcohol."

I nod once he turns his head towards me.

"Okay. I'll have that." I agree.

"I'll go get our drinks. Go ahead and take a seat if you'd like."

I find myself drifting to the prow of the balcony when he leaves, chasing the peaceful view.

From up here all you could see were tall buildings - mainly apartments - and yellow dots of slender street lights. The sky is a dark indigo, but the full moon is shinning up high, brighter than I've noticed in months - supremely lighting up the night.

I take a glance at the bar and I find James' back amid cheerful strangers, only offering me a black tuxedo and short, blonde waves.

SONG: SLIP AWAY - RUELLE

My hands grasp the cold white marble railing.

Despite needing my space back for a moment to think and arrange my thoughts rationally, the need of having him back with me consumes me. It was as if I'd lived endless lifetimes without him and now I've found him, at last.

I still can't believe this is happening. Though I know when I wake up tomorrow he'll be gone along with his veracity. This can only be a dream. So I might as well make the best of it for as long as it lasts.

James walks to me holding two glasses - one elongated and another shaped as a triangle at the rim.

Only then I notice his hands. They were as big as you'd expect someone as tall as him to have. And they carry two slightly-big rings on each hand. It makes him very manly and dangerous. Even more.

"Here." He hands me the cylindrical one, filled with a orange-to red color spectrum liquid. "Try it."

I bring the glass to my lips, feeling exposed under his expectant gaze.

The cocktail has an easygoing flavor with its tasty, sweet fruit juices - citrus, but mainly orange.

"I like it." I tell him and he beams.

"I knew you would."

"And what are you having?" I question between sips. It was actually incredibly easy to swallow down, just like pure orange juice.

He swings his blood-colored drink, his smile dying down, being replaced by his mysterious, serious face.

"A Martinez."

When he takes a sip, I take another, finally comfortable that I'm not the only one drinking.

"I am really glad I met you tonight, Ruby. I wouldn't like to end this night with anyone else."

"I can say the same."

I find myself thinking how this moment feels just like one of my dreams.

Bells rings from somewhere relatively close to where we stood.

"We missed the revelation." James says.

"What's that?"

"When the women take off their masks."

I can see he's waiting for me to do something. But I keep my posture.

"Well that's too bad."

"So you won't give me that pleasure."

"So I won't give you that pleasure." I tease.

In a way I am in a position of power with my mask. He can't truly see me, can't memorize my face - only parts. But then, maybe, he might not be able to recognize me if we ever meet again. It's good, it's bad, it's unsettling.

"I'm gutted." He says and I almost believe him.

I giggle.

"Well isn't this a masquerade ball? Then people should get to keep their masks."

He shakes his head, amused.

"You're a secret, Nameless Ruby."

"I just like to keep my guard up, Velvet, it's all."

"Why? So you don't get vulnerable?"

His eyes are serious as his voice is now, intrigued.

I can't speak. I only manage to nod my head. Because I know if I open my mouth I might say more than I want and regret it.

"Are you afraid of getting hurt?"

I shrug.

"Everyone is."

"What if I tell you everyone has the chance to get hurt? And what if I you knew this was your only chance?" He scoots closer to me, so that my knees tremble. "Would you not take it for the fear of pain that might never exist?"

He sounds like my subconscious speaking. It's crazy.

I want to take a step back but I'm stuck against his unyielding body and the railing.

"It always does." I shake my head.

"But isn't it worth it?"

I look away, feeling his heavy breathing against my cheek. _Oh Lord..._

"I don't know."

His eyes are mischievous, burning blue - the hottest it could get. I can feel my body igniting. It's delicious, daunting, dangerous...

"Let me give you a taste."

The tip of our noses are touching and I can anticipate his hand on my cheek, holding my face, perhaps so I don't fall apart right then and there.

"How?"

"Let me kiss you," he says, his voice nearly a whisper - by far the most sensual I have heard all my life. 

I'm bewildered by the fact that he asked for my permission. That's so chivalrous. 

"Unless you wouldn't like that."

Our mouths are mere millimeters from each others', but still he asks. Still I want to fight it. It's ridiculous how much I want, need, him to kiss me. It's as if I'm drowning and his lips are my only lifeboat in a desert ocean. Yet again, I want to slowly asphyxiate to death and let my lungs fill with regret.

"I would like that." I hear my voice and I don't know who's in charge anymore.

_Oh God. Where did this all boldness come from? It must be the alcohol speaking._

"But I can't." I find some reason amid all the mess. 

The palm of his hand immediately abandons me.

"Oh." He exclaims to himself. "You have a boyfriend?"

I can't lie to him. I simply can't. There is something so unusual, special about him. He's like everything I've ever wished for and he's standing right here in front of me, asking if he can kiss me. It seems like he wants me, too. Even if only for tonight.

"No. I just..."

"I understand." He steps back, allowing distance between us again. I can see the fire in his eyes dying down.

I am ruining everything. I don't want this to happen; this is the opposite direction I wanted things go in. Yet when they were going well - or bad, in a way - I had to be unsure. _Damn my insecurities..._

I think he might leave if I don't justify myself. I don't want him to think I'm playing with his feelings or anything for that sort. So, after a deep breath, I choose to speak from my heart:

"Please don't think this means I'm not into you. I am. I really am."

 _Did I just say that out loud?_ In my mind, I'm rolling my eyes at myself. _I'm just stupid..._

"Well, then there's nothing stopping me."

This time he breaks the distance like a rocket. I can only feel both of his large hands cupping my face. And the only thing I know before our lips meet is that I literally can't breathe. 

Now it's our mouths that dance. Mine is still learning, but it can catch his just in time not have him stop. 

I am hot and shivering. I am floating but falling. I am so present but not here at all. And time is frozen, yet passing with the speed of light. I must be in space, or somewhere between Earth and Heaven. Floating, flying, so high I can't feel my body; can't get a grip of my actions. I can only feel a tremendous, vibrant current of electricity irradiating from his body to mine - or maybe between us - created out of nowhere. I have never felt so alive but, at the same time, dreaming in my whole life.

I feel warm tears pool in my eyes. _What? Why do I want to cry?_

The cold breeze hitting harshly against my exposed skin is the only thing capable of pulling us apart.

"You're shivering." He states, his plump lips begging me not to let go of them.

I can't tell for sure if it's mostly due to the weather or him, but I can't stop shaking.

"It's okay." I say. After all, it's my fault, because I forgot to bring a jacket with me.

He strips off his velvet blazer and moves behind me.

"It's not okay." He protests, helping me slide into it. "I don't want you to get sick."

My initial assumptions were correct. He really is a gentleman.

The blazer fits way too big on me. I'm swimming in it, like I'm wearing clothes from a giant. But I like it. It was warm, and cozy and smells like him - a torrid, sophisticated scent, as one would assume a model to smell like all the time.

"Thank you." I manage to say, as I button its only button and imagine what it would feel like to wear his blazer with nothing underneath.

I eye my barely touched Sex On The Beach, trying to escape my wayward, impure thoughts and the ravishing sight of James in a tailored, immaculate white dress shirt. I want to finish my cocktail to kill my thirst, but I know it won't go away. Not until I kiss him again. But if I do, I might not be able to let him pull away this time.

I glance back at him, my gaze immediately drawn to his lips. They are too tempting, but I have to be strong.

"I think I must go now." I say. Even I could taste my indecision.

 _This is it._ My heart clenches at the realization that I was most likely saying goodbye to him and all the emotions and sensations that came with him forever.

I begin to take off his blazer, but he stops me.

"Keep it." He rests both hands on my shoulders. "I'm not cold to the slightest."

_What? He's giving me his blazer?_

"I can't. It's yours and I don't know if I'll have the chance to return it."

I want him to take the hint so he gives me his number. But perhaps man are really clueless sometimes.

"I'm sure we'll find a way."

 _Oh. Okay._ Is this the consolation prize?

"Goodnight, Nameless Ruby." He smiles through his eyes, promising.

Why do I feel like he feels the same way? Why do I feel like this won't be our last goodbye? Maybe it's my mind playing tricks with me. Or maybe he's playing with me and I'm too naive to realize it.

"Goodnight, Velvet." I reply, a hint of defeat twisting my voice, hope laced around my heart.

There's a sinking feeling weighing me down when I turn around. Why does this feel so wrong? Why do I not want to leave his side?

This is all so confusing, so bittersweet. I always hated not know what to expect and what other's people's feelings towards me are. Yet he revealed nothing, and left me on the edge, clueless weather I would fall or he'd be there to grab my hand when I least expect.

But I stick to my word, my pride and the knot on my throat, and never dare to turn back around.  
  
  


My eyes flinch at the brightness.

_Damn... Eleanor just had to open the curtains!_

The first thing I realize is I'd woken up with a brutal headache. I feel dizzy, but not in the way I felt last night. Not in the good way.

Last night isn't a blur, however. I remember it all too well. Yet it felt like a dream at the same time. A long, realistic dream which unraveled way too fast.

My heart clenches at the thought. I miss him. I need to have that again, even if just one last time.

Amid a joyful smile, I bring my hands to my temples and massage them in an attempt to relief some pain. Still, it doesn't help. So I slap myself back into reality... Yes it was a dream, because it can never be real.

_Alright... starting the new year hangover it is. Let's just hope this is not a presage._

Eleanor is nowhere to be found. And the realization makes me jolt off my bed to check the time. I can't be late right on the first day.

In most ways I'm the antonym of myself last night. I can't stand my reflection in the mirror.

My hair is wavy... a wavy mess. On the bright side, I had managed to keep it not-flat straight for over 2 hours. So it wasn't all black and white. There's badly removed eyeliner remaining under my eyes, right above pronounced dark circles. And my lips are slightly chapped from the cold.

_Chicago, Chicago... We're not up to a good start._

I set my mind to find the quickest and most comfortable outfit on my trolley. While I fish out some black leggings and a V-neck white cashmere sweater, I make a mental note to get back to my dorm after class to clean all this mess. It's not like I'd have plans any afterwards... Except grocery shopping. If I can get Eleanor to come with me, that'll be fun.

I get dressed and put on my tawny brown oxfords - the only brand new shoes I have. Hurriedly, I throw a red apple from our poorly-filled mini fridge into my satchel and head out the door.

It's smells like Autumn outside. I always loved how bittersweet is the scent of fresh rain on the pavement. But I can't linger in the moment - I have a class to attend. Marketing, if I recall correctly.

The campus is nothing quite like the brochures I kept saved in my old room back in Phoenix. It's so much bigger, so much more real. Like yesterday 'noon, I find it crowded with people - from confident seniors to lost and self-conscious freshmans like me. The first-school-day madness. Typical. I can see myself getting lost here if I don't grab a map from the entrance hall.

I want to text Eleanor in case she is still having breakfast somewhere, but I realize I don't have her number yet. _Damn it. Guess I'll walk to class alone. Okay... Which was the classroom?_

My heart races out of nowhere, like I'm about to have an anxiety attack. I check my schedule for the second time that morning.

_A72... Okay._

I follow the directions panel and head inside building A. There's no familiar faces here and I'm thankful for that. There's nothing like a real fresh start, without reputations or rumors or acquaintances.

Here, I don't feel self-conscious that I'm wearing no make up or if I'm not wearing my most expensive clothes. I don't care and no one else seems to, either. No one's dressed like a supermodel. And it's Chicago.

I climb endless marble staircases until I'm on the third and last floor. I tell myself no matter what happens I'll be myself fully, regardless of peer pressure or judgmental stares. My mom would've wanted me not to care about anyone's opinions for once in my life. Speaking of mom... _I haven't had the chance to check my phone._

As I would've predicted, there's a message from her:  
  
  


_Good morning, darling_

_I hope you have a fantastic first day._

_Remember to eat and call me when you can._

_I love you._   
  
  


I smile down at my phone. We never had the best mom-daughter relationship - and I didn't leave on the best terms - but it makes me feel warm and loved inside, regardless.

I find my classroom twenty minutes before time. Given that the door was open, I walk in and take a seat on one of the wooden armchairs in the corner at the back, but not on the last row.

Before I can fish out my notebook and a loose pen, there's a knock at the door.

"Can I come in?" Says a tall, light brown-haired guy. His skin was extremely tanned, as if he had spent way too many hours under the sun this past Summer.

I giggle.

"Do I look like a teacher to you?"

"Actually, no." He grins, Cheshire-cat style as he approaches me. "They're never _that_ gorgeous and young."

"Sure," I scoff, shaking my head. I think he might be flirting. But the thing is that there's a fine line between being friendly and flirty and, most times, my naive-self can't distinguish between the two.

He is just a mere inches shorter than James. Still, he couldn't reach his level of attractiveness and enigmatic. In fact, they were complete opposites - except for their ingrained charm.

To my surprise, he doesn't take a seat next to me. Instead he climbs to the row behind mine and sits down.

"I'm Michael. But everyone calls me Mike."

I turn around to face him.

"I'm Ruby. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet _you._ "

_So many emphasis..._

Before he can keep pulling a few words out of my mouth, there's more students walking in - most of the in groups, with a myriad of different styles and sizes. I instantly feel like I'm the only person who doesn't have any friends in here, except for Eleanor now.

"Good morning, students," says our teacher. " Welcome to Roosevelt University. My name is Mrs. Joan, and I'm glad to meet you all."

Mrs. Joan is a short, chestnut-haired woman in her fifties. She seems oddly joyful and vivacious for a college teacher. But sometimes they ones who had to overcome a lot in the past are the most grateful people and see life with a more positive outlook.

I wish I was more like that. Sadly I'm not and I can't bring myself to ' _fake it until I make it'_ because _fake_ just isn't in my DNA.

"Today I'm not going to keep you for more than a few minutes, so you all can go outside and meet your colleges and get accustomed to the campus and the college life."

Content chatter immediately begins when Mrs. Joan sits down in from of her silver iMac. I glance at Eleanor and she grins at me.

_I'd really appreciate some time to get our dorm in place. And a large coffee before that._

"I'm really hungry." Eleanor says, pouting. "We should visit the cafe outside the campus. What do you say?"

"Read my mind." I giggle.

There's a knock at the door which interrupts all the parallel conversations, as it's louder than the noise of thirty-something students combined. Or so it appears.

I see Mrs. Joan standing up from her desk to open the door. I see perfectly polished dress shoes walking inside... A grey textured vest with matching pants which hung onto the man's hips like magic, with no help from a belt whatsoever... Sleek hair, combed backwards with gel which, truth be told, made hi look like a model, not a teacher. I see... _him_.

I jerk to a halt. My heart is pounding, so loud I can hear it echo inside my chest. And I have _chills -_ from my head to my back _._

He's here. In my college. In my class. I can't believe my eyes. What are the chances? Him and I in the same room for the second time in a row this week? It's as if the universe had aligned in my favor. But, at the same time, acted behind my back and betrayed me. I was so not prepared for this - physically and mentally.

Eleanor gasps beside me. Even she recognized him.

_What is he doing here? Has he been stalking me? That is way too creepy._

Suddenly I'm fully aware of my body and what my face is doing, and how my hands and legs are positioned. If I smile I'll make it too obvious. He might not recognize me. After all, I was wearing a mask the entire time. But if I don't I'll probably look arrogant. But then maybe I'll create doubt inside him, which will stop him from wanting to approach me later. If he ever wants to.

Everything is a mess inside me, but on the outside I manage to act chill. _Damn my indecisions..._

My gaze rivets to James beyond my control. He's even more striking than I'd remembered, just like the most powerful magnet. And I'm just one of many metal clips. _  
_

Just from standing there he makes me want to give him all of me at the blink of an eye. It's unfair, this massive effect he has on me. It's like, regardless of my will power, my body instantly wants to be next to him, even without any valid reason. Like I'm the moth and he's the flame. And I might burn if I get too close. But what if it the pain feels good?

My heart clenches when I hear female voices whispering and sighing around me. By the looks of it, everyone fancied him. And who could blame them? He's a whole other level of attractive and charming. So why would he choose me, out of a billion women? With my unbreakable chain of fortunate events, he doesn't feel the same way and never will.

"Class, let's welcome your French teacher, Mr. Wallace." Mrs. Joan says with a lighthearted tone. It's as if he wasn't supposed to be there in our Marketing class. But he is. And he's teaching right at my university. And I'm going to be his student. This has to be the worst twist of fate of my life. It's too much for my small hands to grasp.

"Hello, everyone." He smiles politely. Even when he isn't grinning from ear to ear it causes a strange turmoil inside of me.

All the students greet him in almost-perfect unison. I wish I could, but I can't take my eyes off him. And still I can't believe the sight before me.

He's more distant than I've ever seen him. It's almost like he's a different person than the one I met last night. But people act different in different contexts, I'm aware.

I see him glancing around the room. In another light and context, he still looks so beautiful. Too beautiful to be real. It's ravishing.

I squeeze down on my seat. Maybe if he doesn't see me for a little longer I can gather the strength to face him when I attend his class - if I manage to.

But it's too late. He's staring at me with parted lips like he knows.

_He knows. But how? It isn't obvious, is it? My face isn't that different._

Last night flashes before my eyes. The moment he saw me and I saw him in the distance... It was just like now. Never in my wildest dreams I could dream of this scenario; never hoped we'd see each other again. But history has a thing for repeating itself.

"He's new here at Roosevelt." Mrs. Joan proceeds. "In fact, he just came all the way from the U.K." She offers him a comforting smile and he reciprocates. "We feel privileged to have you with us, Mr. Wallace."

"The privilege is mine."

Even from a good distance his glare is ever so intense, all on me.

I blush as I look away. My whole body is combusting as if it remembers his touch, his kiss... I can't handle this for too long. And the worst thing is that I know this won't end well. It can't. This is too good to be true.

All my life the guys I liked never liked me back, and the ones who liked me I didn't. Like Eve, maybe the forbidden fruit is what I crave the most. But perhaps this sweet temptation will also be the death of me. 

To my luck, Mrs. Joan pulls him in and they start talking.

I finally manage to release my imprisoned breath.

"Are you okay?" Eleanor asks.

_Damn, my face always gives me away!_

I swallow dryly before I meet her eyes.

"Yeah." I nod my head. "Just wanna get out of here."

As if on cue, Mrs. Joan turns to us a few seconds later.

"Class dismissed for today. Go enjoy your first day!"

They resume talking and I'm surprised at how curious I am to know what they are chatting about. But I tell myself not to care. I shouldn't care about him at all. The more thought I'd put in it, the more hurt I'd end up.

I pack my brand new notebook at the speed of light and stand up from my seat. I notice he glances my way from time to time throughout their conversation and it makes me even more anxious to get out of here.

"Hurry!" I whisper and Eleanor promptly stands up.

"Going!"

I let her walk in front of me, serving as a human shield so I don't feel so vulnerable. I can't look at him again. His eyes alone made me feel way too many things. I can't bare the thought of being in a room with him for an hour twice a week. I truly might not make it.

Only once I'm out of that distressing classroom I can breathe properly.

 _Why am I such a mess when he's around?_ I wonder asI speed down the long hallway. I'll be sweaty and breathless when I get to my dorm any way.

"Holy frick, Ruby!" Eleanor gasps, catching up with me. Her mouth is hanging open like she's more shocked than I am. "He's our teacher!"

"Yup. I heard that, too."

I keep the fast pace at all costs. I need to get to my dorm as soon as possible. I can't process what just happened surrounded by noise.

"Fate really has its way of bringing people together." She beams at me. What she doesn't realize is that I'm the opposite of glad. Or, at least, I should be deep down.

"You think?" I glance her way, slowing down just enough not to look like a crazy person.

"Yes! You were afraid you'd never see him again, and here he is. You can't escape that."

_I really can't. Unless I hide in my bed every Tuesdays and Thursdays._

"I think it must be some karmic punishment or something."

"Yes, I'm that evil." I whisper to myself.

Eleanor frowns and rests her hand on my forearm, studying my face. We stop in the middle of the hallway against my will.

"Aren't you happy?"

"No!" I sound more sure than I am, as if her question is outrageous. It should be. "He's our teacher. If there was ever a slightest chance of the two of us working out, it's now gone."

Her smile dies down. I can't have her feeling sorry for me right now, or I can't help from bringing myself to tears.

"Hey, don't say that." She pulls me in for a quick hug. "Don't be so pessimistic."

_Actually this might be the first time I'm being "pessimistic". Ever._

All my life, I've always dreamed too high and reality lets me down every time. I can't keep being my own punching bag anymore. I have to be realistic, rational, not let my head in the clouds. I'm not a child anymore; I'm not naive anymore.

"We'll, it's the truth. I'm just embracing it before I create further expectations."

"Ruby." I hear his voice - familiar by now. It startles me.

_It's James. He's calling my name. Oh no..._

I turn around to find James walking towards me, with intent. He always oozed confidence and self-assurance. In many ways, we were complete opposites.

With just a few large paces he's standing in front of me - looking all perfect and groomed and smelling divine. I missed his scent. If I could, I would live off it like it's oxygen. 

He seems happy - I notice - somehow less mysterious than last night. Still, my heart races and my legs quiver uncontrollably. I feel more vulnerable than ever now that he's close and I'm stripped off my mask in plain daylight.

"Yes?" I ask, trying my best to appear indifferent. But my frail voice betrays me.

"What a delightful coincidence." A lopsided smile plays on his lips. Lips that I've kissed not even twenty-four hours ago. But unlike last night, I just want to get away from him. For my own sake. Even though it might be selfish of me, I can't be mean to myself to the point I'll let anything happen between us again.

I turn around in search for Eleanor, but she's left. She's left me with him. Alone. _Goddammit!_

His magnetic eyes are quick to capture mine back. Now in the daylight, I can see they're such a vivid blue; so alive and profound.

"You're even more beautiful than my imagination perceived you." He mutters. His raspy, posh British accent makes me lose my breath. I didn't remember how seductive his voice was on its own. I think I'm blushing again, but I can't know for sure.

 _How can he get me with just his voice and his presence? He doesn't have to touch me to make me malleable to his liking. It's absolutely ridiculous._ But, in a strangely masochistic way, I like it.

"I'm in awe with you, I must confess."

_I can say the same._

The feeling I had when we were together last night is still very present - this unexplainable connection; this overpowering current of electricity I don't want to break. Like we've been apart an eternity and finally reunited, and it's meant to be like this. I doubt it's ever going away. But I have to want it to.

I shake myself back to the present and gather my senses.

"Have you been stalking me?"

"What?" He's baffled with my question.

 _Always saying the right thing at the right time,_ I'm shaking my head disappointingly in my mind.

"Ruby, I had no idea you were studying here."

"That seems hard to believe."

Deep down, I'm aware I'm pulling a cold front. But I refuse to let him see my barely-hidden emotions, my feelings for him. They're absurd even for me. It's preposterous for someone to be this close to falling in love with a person they just saw once or twice.

"What?" A discontent crease forms in his forehead and I can tell he's telling the truth. "You think I want to be your teacher?"

"Oh, you don't?" I'm indignant and I can't hide it. My jealousy always got the best of me. But why? Why am I taking it there? We're nothing to each other.

"That's not what I meant. I'd be - I am - more than happy to teach you. Believe me. All I'm saying is that I didn't want us to be in this situation."

"What situation?"

"Being your college teacher and nothing else." He says, with a face so serious it leaves me collapsed on the ground before him.

_Nothing else... He wants more?_

"You're my teacher and I'm your student. That's it."

His jaw clenches, so sharply it could cut someone in the middle like a butcher-knife. Someone like me. I can feel the tension when he leans in.

"You're saying we should pretend we don't know each other?" He whispers against my cheek, looking away. If he had his eyes on me I'd lose my train of thought right away. To this date, he was the only man capable of clouding my judgement. Just as long as he's around, I can't think properly. It's _nearly_ impossible to resist. _Nearly_.

"Exactly." I pull away to keep a adequate distance between us. If not for me, for him. I can't let him risk his career like that.

"But why do I feel like that's not what you want?"

"You don't know what I want." I'm quick to remark.

"Can I at least give it a shot?"

I shrug, carelessly, folding my arms beneath my chest. This would be the last time we'd be alone, so might as well just hear what he has to say before I walk away for good. Right?

"You can say you don't a thousand times, but I know you want me."

 _No!_ I scream in my mind. I've heard that if you tell yourself a lie enough times it can become true.

"You're so conceited! Honestly. You walk into a room and you think every girl would give anything to be with you? You're not freaking Prince Harry. And I'm sorry to pop your bubble, but I don't _fancy_ you."

A grin chases away his frown. _What's so funny?_

"You don't _fancy_ me?" He's sardonic now.

"No." I tell him without blinking, trying to convince him and myself altogether. "We just kissed. It was a one-time thing. Get over it."

_As if I ever would..._

"If my memory doesn't fail me, you told me you were into me last night."

"I had been drinking. I wasn't in me. Plus, even if I'd meant it, it was before I knew you were my teacher."

"Oh, so that's a turn off for you?"

_More the opposite, now that I think about it. But he can't know._

"It's wrong. Period."

He glances around the empty hallway before invading my personal space once more.

"If we were alone, I'd prove you just how wrong you are, love." He murmurs, this time closer to my skin. So I can feel his hot breath against my ear and his lips skimming the sensitive, shiver-causing spot.

 _Oh God..._ He's teasing. I can tell he knows I want his mouth on mine again and he wants me to give in. But I won't let him have the upper hand.

"Why are you so adamant to prove me wrong?" It's a rhetorical question. But he doesn't seem to realize it.

He opens his mouth to speak, but I interrupt him just in time. The last thing I needed were pretty words coming out of his gorgeous, full lips to distract me from reality even further.

"There's nothing to prove here." I take a painful step back and I'm faced with his fretful frown. I can hear my subconscious yelling at me for depriving my body of those delicious, carnal sensations I've never felt before. But if I've waited nineteen years, I can wait some more. "Goodbye, Mr. Wallace."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Collins." He says, flashing a sudden winsome smile. I hold myself not to roll my eyes at him before he moves past me.

How does his mood shift from sulky to pernicious in the blink of an eye? Why is he making this more difficult than it is? He should know better than anyone that this can't happen for the sake of us, specially his. He's in a position of trust and, as his student, I should be able to count on him to teach me, not tempt me.  
  


I find Eleanor sitting in one of the outdoor tables of _Little Bites_ \- the outrageously hipster cafe right outside the campus. I should have went back to my dorm and have my long-awaited house cleaning therapy. But I couldn't keep hiding from reality - harsh, cruel, reality. And Eleanor was waiting with the most friendly smile I've ever seen and my cream-filled espresso in front of her latte. If not to delay my lonely crying session on the floor, at least to keep my word.

"Hey! How are you?" She greets me with a compassionate voice.

I pull the not-very-comfortable-looking bamboo chair out and sit down.

"I'm okay."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Given the circumstances, it's pretty evident nothing can happen between us. I just had to set things straight."

"And what was his reaction?"

"Not the one I expected, to be honest."

"What did he say?"

"He wanted more." I tell her.

"No way!" Her excitement makes me want to be excited. At least that's the way you're supposed to feel when the person you like tells you they like you back in their own way. But my brain doesn't allow me.

"Yup. He'll come down to his senses eventually."

"I have to tell you one thing: he's not really my type, but he's outrageously handsome. And I saw the way he was looking at you today. It's crystal clear that he likes you."

"Oh, so you have a Psychology degree?"

"No, but I have the habit of reading people's body languages. If you weren't in public, he'd be all over you, Ruby."

I blush at the thought, giving myself the side-eye. My body craved that so intensely, so deeply. But my reason had her arms crossed and nose scrunched upwards. In this battle of desire versus reason, I have no clue which one will end up victorious. And I don't even think I'll be alive to see it.

When I come back from my wayward thoughts, I find Eleanor smirking at me. Her long, acrylic nails tap against the mug at the rhythm of her nod.

"You want to bone him."

"What?" I squeal. I can't believe she just said that out loud in a public space.

"You do!"

I stir my coffee, dissolving the whip cream into the dark brown liquid. I shouldn't even be telling her about my feelings towards James. They can't keep on existing. But all I seem to do lately are bad decisions.

"And what does that matter, anyway? It's wrong."

"Live a little, Ruby! Don't be so uptight. If you both like each other, you'll find a way."

"I can't have him." I murmur and I can feel warm tears polling in my eyes. _Why is this so painful?_ "He's my teacher now."

"It's not healthy to push your feelings down and wallow yourself in self-pity all the time. Nothing is impossible. Apparently, your fear is the only thing burning the bridges between you two."

_Dang, she'd be one hell of a good shrink._

As much as I don't want to believe her, she's right. I really want to give a shot at love for the first time in my life, despite all the risks. But I've just told James I don't want nothing with him. I can't just tell him no one day and be chasing after him like a lost puppy then next. I hate not keeping my word and playing games with people. That's just not me.

I take a few sips of my beverage before standing up. This whole situation even managed to make me lose my appetite.

"Thanks for the coffee, but I really have to go now."

After our conversation, I don't know what to do anymore. I still have my judgement cloudy from our little encounter earlier. I need to get myself alone and process everything that just happened in the past ten hours alone.

"What?" Her face falls down as I grab my satchel from the back of the chair. "Ruby, no..."

She thinks I'm angry. I could never be mad at Eleanor. All she did was shed some light on the situation between James and I. Despite of how tortuously tempting, she did what any good friend would do.

"I promised my mom a Skype call." I force a natural smile out. I haven't told her that, but it would be the right thing to do given I have the rest of the day free of anything. Expect my bugging thoughts. "I'll see you later."

"See ya." 

I walk back to my dorm in silence with my thoughts. I'm amazed I've managed to quieten them for a few minutes. My mind has never been more jumbled or restless in my life. I'm grateful Mrs. Joan gave us this day free of classes. I wouldn't handle occasionally running into James on campus after this morning.

I decide to begin with unpacking. It was the most helpful thing I could do for my sulking self the next mornings, and in case I hit snooze too many times. Throwing my trolley onto the bed, I begin separating my clothes by category and folding them perfectly to stack them in the shared light wooden dresser. I use two drawers - one with tops, one with bottoms - and leave the remaining two empty for Eleanor. All my clothes barely filled those drawers.

The inevitable, life-changing decision begs me for an answer.

So... _What would the responsible, smart, young woman do in my shoes?_ Resist him and keep her word, I come to a conclusion. At least not until she's sure about his feelings for her. Only then, maybe, she can dive headfirst into it. But firstly she must wait and see what the next days bring.

I give myself a pat in the back. I'm proud of the choice I've made. It wasn't really the ultimate choice to my dilemma, but at least it allowed me some peace of mind for a little while.

After finishing cleaning the dorm until there's not a ounce of dust left, I grab my laptop and lay down on my bed.

My mom is smiling tenderly in her living room when I see her through the tiny camera.

"Hi, mom."

"Hi, sweetheart!" Her smile fades away in the span of a few seconds. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Yeah, but Mrs. Joan dismissed us so we could socialize and explore the Campus."

I see the relief in her eyes. Did she really think when I went to college I'd miss classes and turn into some addict party girl?

"Oh, great. How's everything going?"

"Its' going well." I shrug.

"Ruby, do you like it there?" She sounds concerned. Maybe my face didn't match my words.

"Yes." I reassure her. "The campus is just as formidable as in the photos and the teachers are great so far."

 _Except for one._ My mind is quick to bring back James' face into the picture. _Mr. Wallace is more than great, and it gets on my nerves._ And I hate myself for not being able to stop thinking about him for one freaking minute ever since we met.

"That's so nice to hear. Have you made any friends yet?"

"Yes, in fact. My roommate is really nice. We've got along really well so far."

"Wonderful. I'm happy you're enjoying college."

"Yeah."

"I have to leave for work in a couple minutes. Text me in the evening if you need anything."

"Okay, mom. Have a good day. Kiss Jade for me."

"I will." She giggles. I could never forget my best friend, even if she was a little grumpy, aloof cat who forgot to love me back sometimes. _God, I miss Jade already..._ "You too, darling."

When the disconnecting beep is heard, all the emotions come to me at once like a devastating avalanche. I close the lid of my laptop and lay down beside it, realizing this isn't how I pictured my first day of college to be like. It wasn't even a possibility that had occurred to me. It surpassed my low-set expectations, for a change. Mostly, I thought it would be an ordinary day without much drama and overthinking. And here I am, curled up in this unfamiliar bed, in this new hectic city missing the comforting warmth of home and wondering why the universe brought someone like James into my life under these circumstances.

Foreign verses form in my head as I shut my eyes closed:  
  


_What a strange remembrance_

_The dark horse in a cold night_

_The unlikely happenstance_

_Keeping the sun with the moonlight_


	4. THE DARE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to READ MORE CHAPTERS, I will be posting them only on WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/story/160765688-seeing-velvet

**SOMETHING EERIE**

When I open my eyes, they flicker to James' Tom Ford blazer hung up on the back of the chair, which stood as quiet as I before the messy desk. That single item of clothing alone carried so many memories and forced a weight on my soul, unlike any other before. I have to find a way to turn it back without much interaction, so he doesn't think I used it as an excuse to see him again. Of course it would be nice, but I know I shouldn't have any further contact with him, except a student-teacher relationship.

Deep down, I know my need to get closer again prevailed above any righteous principle. And so did his, apparently. _Oh, God..._ I bring my hands to my face and wipe the glistening paths that lead to the corners of my mouth on both of my cheeks.

As if on cue, the door slams open.

"Ruby!" Eleanor yells in joy, walking in. Behind her are a few people I've never seen before, which follow right after her. Strangers around me... That's exactly what I needed. On her hand she's grasping a bottle of some highly alcoholic drink, but she looks tipsy already.

"Hey..." I reply, standing up and fixing my hair behind my ears. Who are these people and what are they all doing in my clean, quiet space?

From that small crowd I recognize Mike from Marketing class that morning. I watch him plug his phone into his portable speakers and suddenly there's pop music blasting.

_SONG: TALKING BODY - TOVE LO_

Some people engage on lively dances, others sit down around the room - on the lonely chair, on Eleanor's bed, on my bed. On moment I'm lying on it alone, nearly crying from my undodgeable thoughts, the next Eleanor is bursting through the door with ten strangers and our dorm had become some dysfunctional frat party. Talk about a 360º turn...

I scramble to the window to shut the blinds, wanting to forget about the sound of canned beers clinking behind me. The sun had set just a few hours ago and I hadn't noticed the day darkening outside. I must've lied down for longer than I thought. It feels like I've taken an afternoon nap, and now I'm slightly disoriented. Except I don't feel recharged and willing to be productive the rest of the day. On the contrary.

I lean against the window sill, watching fellow young-adults cheerfully undo all the cleaning I had done to our dorm with their dirty shoes and wobbly hands.

"Hey, how are you?" Mike asks, slowly approaching me.

Fake it 'till you make it... I remind myself.

"I'm good." I force a smile on my lips. "Just didn't expect a party right here and now."

"Oh, it'll be fun!" He pats my shoulder, trying to lift my mood with his notorious broad smile.

Mike and Eleanor have similar personalities, I notice - both guy and girl-next-door level of friendly, who constantly want to have fun, as if 'Y.O.L.O' is their motto and they desire everyone else to live by it.

"Who are these people?" I have to ask. I don't recognize a single face.

"They're our colleagues."

_Oh..._

"Come on, you should have a drink."

_No, I should not._

Before I can say anything, I have the unfinished bottle of Vodka from last night chunked between my hands.

"Drink up!"

Amid rumble and claps, I see Eleanor give me an approving look from the other side of the room. _God..._ I take the rim to my mouth and sip it down, just a tad more than the night before. It still tastes bad, but I'm more accustomed to its flavor, this time around.

"Now we're talking." Mike chuckles beside me, with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his distressed jeans.

"Guys, how do you feel about playing a game?" Eleanor The Host Zara asks and the endless chatter stops for her.

Popular people didn't have to try at all. I still haven't figured out exactly what it is that makes someone popular. It's not their looks or money - or a combination of both - necessarily, that makes them automatically liked by their colleagues. I've seen enough less-privileged and unattractive teens known by the entire school. Maybe those people were born with the popular gene, and there's nothing you can do about it. Maybe it's the way they carry themselves and their ingrained confidence that gives them such status. And God knows I probably have it written on my face, how clumsy and socially-awkward I am. Perhaps they can see right through me, even though I try my best to conceal it. I come with the outcast gene. It's in my DNA.

"Truth or Dare!" A guy with raven hair and a terrible sense of style suggests. Everyone yay's at his suggestion.

"I think I'm gonna skip," I tell Mike, ready to grab my bag and go out to catch some fresh air. I should go for a walk and get to know Chicago better.

"Why?" He asks, frowning, as I give him back the bottle. "You don't like this game?"

"It can be fun, but it can also hurt people's feelings if there's stupid questions." I make my point.

"I won't let nobody ask you anything stupid."

Why is he being so persuasive over me to fit in? He's worse than Eleanor.

"Come." He invites me with an enticing smile. Is he really flirting with me?

Before I know it, everyone is gathered in a broken circle on the crème carpeted floor. I take the empty spot between Mike and a platinum blonde-haired girl so I don't look so out of place. If I had it my way I'd be watching from the corner, but if I blend in with my peers, I might actually fit in for once in my life. At least I hope so, since I'm making the sacrifice to stick around to hang out with them.

Eleanor spins the empty vodka bottle on the ground and it ends up turned towards some rugged punk guy and the flawless blonde beside me.

"Truth." She says, very confident.

"Given that we've never met, I have to ask you the first thing I ask everyone I meet." He says and a lot of giggles follow his words. "What's your favorite sex position?"

What? He has no shame. That's none of his business! What's wrong with this generation and their addiction to sex? As if everything revolves around it and it's the thing that defines you the most. Sex and looks.

"Super casual..." Someone jokes.

"Doggy-style." The blonde answers without blinking her long, fake lashes. She seems experienced by her careless posture and attractive petite figure. Straight away, I know I'll never be like her, even if it's all I wanted throughout my high school years up until now. I was born to be the weird girl in the corner looking in from the outside.

Drenched in adrenaline, I start thinking what I would answer if someone asked me that question, by any change. Always expecting the worst. 

_How the hell would I know? Shit. Think._ I have to sound believable. They can't know I'm a 19-year-old virgin. They'd think something is wrong with me - and it clearly must be. But above all, not consider me cool and, well, an ordinary college student. Which is what I am. And also someone who can't think clearly under pressure.

After around fifteen minutes, the bottle hasn't landed on me once. That's how lucky I am at games... In life in general, honestly. Every time it was the reckless punk's turn to ask 'truth or dare', he asked the same question to the girl on the other side of the bottle. The answers were all among doggy style and 69's. Poor girls. You could tell by miles most of them were just saying what their friends said not to admit the painful truth.

The bottle is turned swiftly and, as if corrupted, it stops with the base towards Mike and the rim towards me.

_Shit._

"Truth." I say. I'm positive the dares would consist on kissing and making out and I'm not going to engage on that.

"I have to ask," he smiles apologetically at me. _Oh no... What a hypocrite._ "What's your favorite sex position?"

Unlike the rest of the girls, I decide to be original. Not to stand out - by any means -, but it hopes it makes me sound believable. After all everyone has different preferences.

In the rush of the moment I start thinking how I'd like to have sex - not my first time, but afterwards. Something that's always excited me was being shoved against a wall. Perhaps having my arms pinned over my head or my legs laced around the mysterious figure holding me captive.

 _Gosh, no!_ I feel the sweat building on my forehead and my exasperation barely able to be contained. Against the wall isn't a position. Is it? I doubt it. There must be a specific name on the Kama Sutra, but I have no clue which it is.

"Standing up.", I reply with the straightest face and most nonchalant tone I could amount to.

In my mind I know I look believable, as no one laughs or secretly whispers to others, but inside my heart is still racing and I'm the most nervous I've been in a while because I just started lying to my colleagues in order to hide my shameful secret and fit in.

"That doesn't sound very comfortable." Eleanor looks at me rather inquisitive. She clearly has experience and has no idea I don't.

I shrug with a bashful smile and, to my luck, she brushes it off. The game carries on, and I'm glad the attention is no longer focused on me. I sigh in relief as I fix my hair behind my ears, thinking how I just want this party to be over.

"Do you want another drink?" Mike asks, out of the blue.

"No, I'm good. Thanks." I say, trying to hide the fact that I'm not very pleased with his recent actions. I'm more than good. Way past good.

He stands up and disappears when two guys – who chose dare and claimed to be boyfriends - start making out. Everyone cheers and drinks again.

Although they had a bit too much to drink, they're truly adorable. I wonder what's it's like to be open about your feelings to the world, in spite of people's judgmental looks and prejudiced assumptions on your private life. They make it seem easy, but I know it's not at all.

"Okay... I think it's enough" Eleanor says, laughing, like a teen watching their parents display any sort of romantic affection. They pull apart with flustered cheeks and it takes me back to mine and James' kiss.

My throat is dry, my heart skipping a beat, due to my vivid recent memory. What would I do to have him with me again... Preferably in some alternative universe where he's not my teacher and I his student. But sometimes life isn't fair. Maybe it's an obstacle we have to overcome if our feelings are real and strong. _God, I don't even know if he truly likes me..._  
  


I don't remember when the party was over. I just know I'm lying on my bed, still fully clothed, over the covers. _Did I pass out? Did someone put me in bed?_

I scan the room for Eleanor and she's nowhere to be found. I hope she just went to the bathroom or something like that.

Before I can try to recall last night's party to keep me awake until Eleanor came back, my head begins throbbing, pounding angrily and making me struggle to keep my eyes open. It dawns on me that I'm hungover. I must've had drunk more, although I don't recall touching anything but the bottle of vodka twice.

James' words still find a way to echo inside my mind: 

_If we were alone, I'd prove you just how wrong you are._

Jesus... If this were to happen I know I'd lose my balance on this tight rope I find myself on. But I don't see us ever being alone in here, so it's safe to say I'm safe. Unless he hunts me down. No, it's too risky. Even for him.

The last thing I remember before falling back asleep is a perfectly-fitted grey vest and ground-chattering promises.

I'm half asleep when I hear a quiet knock on the door. My fingers struggle to find the button to turn on the lamp. Our alarm clock is set on 2:22 a.m – that's a first.

 _It must be Eleanor..._ I groan, wondering why she didn't come back earlier.

I stand up with sleepy eyes and hush through the dark room to get to the door. The fastest I got her drunk ass in bed, the sooner I could go back to my warm nest. Quickly, I unlock the door and open it.

James is staring at me with his usual wicked smile, standing as still as a sculpture in the darkened hallway. I'm immediately rooted to the floor, my pulse racing.

_What the fuck?! What is he doing here?_

I promptly cover as much chest skin with my pink knit jumpsuit as I can. I'm only wearing a white lace bralette underneath – that's basically underwear. I know I'm dreaming. I have to be. Why the hell would he be standing by my dorm at this time of the night? But he looks very much real. His blonde waves are messy and he's still wearing his suit, like he hasn't gone to bed yet. In the dim lights of my bedroom he looks even more beautiful, if possible.

"What... What are you doing here?" I whisper, completely astonished and flustered. I'm basically on my underwear in the same room as he is.

"Hello Mrs. Collins." He says, walking inside, and my whole body trembles with the sound of his voice. Like him, it's so powerful and present and seductive... "I've decided to come by to collect my blazer, once you forgot to return it."

Oh, right. Makes sense. Or am I just being blinded by his excuses and the main - if not the only - reason he's here is to see me? No, I'm being ridiculous. That blazer alone probably costs twice the price of my tuitions and, even if he's rich, doesn't mean he throws money away like that. Still, this is so not the time or place...

"Hum, okay. It's right here."

I don't question his decisions and fly in autopilot to where his blazer stood on the chair. This choice of time, of place, the garments situation, is so not beneficial for my self-control.

Suddenly I'm so aware of myself – what my hands are doing, what my face looks like... Oh no. Was I drooling in my sleep?

I hear the door being shut behind me. It startles me but I can't say it surprised me. Dear Lord, it's so not right for a teacher to be in his student's dorm... Specially not at this time!

When I turn around with my restless heart, he's regarding me intently. I want to cover my face, my whole body. Preferably he could be the one to cover it with his own. No! He's your teacher, nothing more. He can't be.

I hand him his jacket and our fingers gently brush before he throws it carelessly over his shoulder. My mind is eager to imagine what it would feel like if I was the one being thrown over his shoulder. He looks strong. I'm sure he could lift me without much effort, even though I'm not the skinniest girl. God, I want this man... But do I really need to remind myself? I've known it since the day I met him, and my feelings haven't changed. If anything, keep growing and growing.

_Oh God... I'm so fucked._

"Thank you," His smile shakes me out of my reverie, and then his eyes capture mine with dexterity.

Even in a dark room anyone could get lost in his magnetic blue-eyed gaze.

"There's something I have to tell you before I go." He says and I swear my heart stopped for a millisecond.

_What? What can it possibly be?_

My curiosity peeks. Never in my nearly-twenty years of life had someone intrigued me to this degree. It was touching obsession. But obsession and possession walked hand in hand, and – sadly – I hadn't yet experienced the latter to feel stable again. My current status would be: wobbling in an inescapable wave of foreign emotions and confusion. And I can't surf.

James leans in and I realize it's bound to be something good. But something good can't apply to our situation.

"Please don't..." I take a step back, even though my feet seemed superglued to the floor beneath me. I'm aware of the fact that most of my brain is still numb from sleep and I won't be able to think straight if he keeps pursuing me like this.

"Ruby..."

"What?"

James takes a deep breath as he runs his fingers through his shiny, soft-looking locks. And that ordinary, mindless act only makes me want to give in even more.

"I've told you before and I think you've realized it by now, regardless of my words..."

I suck in my breath, anticipating and dreading, all at once, where our conversation was heading

"I fancy you, Ruby."

I can feel my heart pumping loudly through my mouth, my hands shaking. 

_He likes me._

His body gets closer to mine again and I can't react in time to fight our proximity. Even if I would, I think I'd be too weak and jelly to move.

"I know you feel the same way," he says, reaching out for my hand. As if on cue, I notice he's wearing the same rings he wore to the ball. He never seems to take them off. They must have a special meaning.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" I have to ask. Part of me hates that I'm exposing myself to him like this – risking being made fun of or played with-, but the most prevalent part _has_ to know.

His ash blonde brows furrow.

"What? Why d'you say that?"

"Your rings," I gesture towards them, not sure which one could symbolize a relationship.

"Oh. No, you got it wrong." He shakes his head assertively. "These rings were passed through generations. They were my great-great-great grandpa's, who collected jewelry back in his day."

 _Oh._ It's a family heritage after all. I really should ask before assuming things about others...

"They look good on you." I confess, my voice barely audible, consumed by shame. Barely any man can pull off big amounts of rings or any other type of jewelry the way he does.

"Thank you," he says with a crooked smile, which doesn't last long. "Do you?"

"What?"

"Have a boyfriend?" he asks.

_I would have if you wanted to._ _My witty jokes bring me amusement, almost as much as his dreadful face. I bite the inside of my cheeks not to crack up._

"No," I confess.

"That's all I needed to hear."

 _What?_ That' why he came here? To know if I had a boyfriend or not? What if I had a girlfriend? That would've thought him a lesson.

I can't help but wonder what would his reaction be if I said yes. Would he be jealous or, worse, back away for good? Even though I hate the thought of it, that would be for the best.

_Maybe I should've lied._

I feel a wave of shivers invade my body when I realize we've been talking for a while, instead of simply fulfilling the purpose of the causality of his visit. And it takes me back to the night on the rooftop. Neither of us wants to leave, I notice. If I had it my way, I would lock the door and push him right onto my bed while our lips collide again. I don't remember what his kiss tastes like, but I miss his flavor.

But he needs to go now, for our own sake.

"Until tomorrow, Mr. Wallace," I dismiss him with a nod. So not the way I wanted to say goodnight, but we've walked the thin line enough for one day.

I watch James buck his head down as I bite my lip, imagining what it could have been like if I were to give in. If I were weak. He looks disturbed, rejected - perhaps for the first time in his life.

He's halfway out of the door alongside his blazer when he turns around. Damn, he's as tall as the door. I see hesitation shadowing his features before he takes his eyes off the ground.

"Ruby..." he paces towards me, his predator stare holding mine, until my bare feet nearly touch his pointy black shoes.

I've started to realize every time he says my name there's something important following.

"I want you."

_Holy shit. What now?_

All of a sudden his blazer is on the floor and his hand is on my face, cupping it while his thumb caresses my cheek. I feel like I'm melting, my limbs weakening to his touch. It's electrifying and scorching all at once, like brazen fire and high voltage combined. A freaking explosion.

"You don't have to say it," he says, voice laced with evident desire. "Just let me show you I mean it."

_SONG: DESPERADO - RIHANNA_

The air around us grows thick, filled with puissant energy and lust. I watch as his plump lips part, oh-so-invitingly. Without realizing, my mouth mimics his. And he doesn't even have to let me succumb to my deepest desires – he just knows.

James pulls me in against his mouth with desperation, his hand firm on my face. My insides tremble anew. And all the longing was worth it. All the waiting, the pacing and anticipation, had led me right where I wanted to be. He kisses me with such hunger and passion I'm barely able to reciprocate. Even if I had been kissed like this before, I'd be at a loss of words to attempt his level of expertise in this department. But I have to take control, somehow. Or he'll see I'm so not experienced at these things and leave me. No one wants to be bad at kissing or making out. Or abandoned by someone they care for.

My hand flies to his nape, feeling his dense, short hair underneath my fingers, and it brings me out of trance, the realization that he's actually here, in my bed, kissing me. I pull on it gently and he groans against my mouth. I relish on the sound, my insides tingling with pride. I want to keep my fingers tangled in his hair forever. It is, without a doubt, as silky as it looks.

As a payback – I presume – he captures my lower lip between his teeth. I want to moan to this new, extremely-pleasurable sensation, but I'm afraid I'll look silly. A lip bite isn't enough reason to moan, is it? God, with him even the simplest things make me want to moan...

"You are mesmerizing, Ruby Collins." James murmurs, lightly out of breath, gazing deeply into my eyes. Those eyes were intense, and encompassing and, well, a little bit too disarming. Strangely, they resembled my own.

"Me? Mesmerizing?" I chuckle out my thoughts.

He blinks at me, eyes glazed from being seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"You most certainly are."

As if physically possible, my heart quickens from his unexpected compliment, the way his skin feels against mine, the way he stares at me... everything. As usual, I'm befuddled with the effect he has on me. It's unworldly.

I just want to immerse myself in the depths of his dusking blue eyes and never come back to the surface. Because, as long as I'm inside them, I know I'm his – for the time this daydream shall last.

_He's so, so beautiful..._

James' wandering hand slipping down my waist brings me out of my reverie. Where would it land? How far would he go? Do I want it to go far? Not that far. As much as I'm insanely attracted to him, I don't want to lose my purity with someone I'm not in a relationship with. Perhaps that would be a crazy thing for someone like James to hear, but I'm not like most people my age.

Feeling his manly, thick skin beneath my fingers, I take hold of his hand when it reaches my lower hip. My body wants to speak louder than my brain, but I've always tamed it all my life. I could do it one more time.

"It's getting late." I whisper or pant – I'm not sure which one. I notice his eyes losing a trace of their wildness. It upsets me that it has to be this way, but I have principles and obligations and – I confess – I sort of play hard to get when I like someone. But which girl doesn't want a man chasing her and fighting for her?

"I have to be up by seven and I can't function with less than eight hours of sleep." I chuckle at myself, perfectly aware I've just ruined this and every other chance of being close with James. But I can live with that – or so I hope.

It takes me a moment to realize he's smiling down at me, his eyes alive again – amused.

_Am I that funny?_

"You know, Miss Collins, tomorrow you have first period with me." He says, his gentle yet powerful voice filling the room again. "And it wouldn't be the end of the world if you came in an hour later because you were having your beauty sleep. In fact, I would rather you made that choice, because it has truly paid off."

_Whoa... Is he calling me beautiful?_

In a daze by him, I give into my most persistent, primitive needs and allow his skin to explore my body anywhere he wishes. Before I know it, James is attacking my neck with urgent, wet kisses. I shake and shiver underneath him, getting accustomed to yet another new and wondrous sensation. My mouth falls open after a minute of invasion, smitten, and comes to his encounter. Without needing to ask, his mouth captures mine once again, matching the type and tempo of the kisses he had left on my neck.

While I surrender to his intoxication, I feel his cold fingers venture under my bralette. Before I can anticipate it, he's pushing the lacy fabric over my breasts without much thought, fully exposing them. I shiver, from head to toe, and all my senses become heightened that very instance. I have never been touched there, much less deprived of any sort of coverage.

I pull away, breaking the kiss, and James stares up at me, expectant. I'm speechless all of a sudden. The only easy form of communication is my body, as all the words seems to be stuck inside my brain. I don't have any idea what to say – what I want to say –, I just know that I want him to keep doing what he's so skillfully doing. Is that so wrong?

Biting my lip seems to be the only sort of response I find in the rush of the moment. And his azure eyes light up like blazing fire, regarding me for a further silent minute, before he's getting back to action.

Ever-so-gently, his fingers trace the zone under my breasts, slowly aiming north. _Oh Lord, this feels better than I imagined._ I can feel my back struggling to remain flat on the bed and every limb of mine weakening and giving into his magical touch. It's absurd how much control he doesn't know he has over me.

"Jesus, Ruby..." James whispers under his breath, his left hand skimming my waist. "I've never touched skin as soft and immaculate as yours."

My breath itches on my throat, as if he'd said something shocking. And the truth is that nothing that divine man would say could shock me.

"It's such a delight to see how I'm driving you insane just by caressing it." He says and his thumb presses over my nipple.

_Holy fuck!_

The muscles inside my belly contract to his touch – muscles I barely remembered the existence of – and my legs open wider. This is arousal. Hard and raw. I try my best not to moan, but it's too late. I flush at the sound that escapes through my parted lips. It's odd but liberating, all at once.

"I want to hear all your pretty moans, all night long." James murmurs. "But tonight you have to stay quiet."

 _Oh. I can do this._ I tell myself, smirking on the inside with the anticipated taste of victory.

I nod under his magnetic glance. And so he proceeds.

The mischievous thumb rubs my hardening nipple, making it sensitive with each stroke; making staying quiet a nearly-impossible task. Every fondle goes straight to the very-untouched place between my legs. So I squirm, feeling my body tender in a way I've never found it. But James stills me, quick and efficient, pinning my arms over my head.

"Quiet and still, I forgot to mention."

I can sense – taste, even – his hot, trepid breath against my face. Although he doesn't show it like I do, I can now be sure he's just as turned on as I am. My attention flies to his lean, strong, well-built body. I can't help but wonder if his manhood is as big as he is. It must be... _Damn._

James clear his throat, and it brings me out of my reverie. His torso slides over my body until we're face to face. I think he caught me gawking. I bite my lip, as if that action alone could stop my always-instant blushing, looking at him from under my lashes.

"The things I would do to you if we had the time..." he thinks out loud, holding my gaze all for himself.

My imagination flies wild like a child. What things could be going through that mysterious mind? Probably things that could only happen if I was no longer a virgin. What a bummer Miss Virginity is... And her husband Mr. Period.

"For now, I'm satisfied with making you come from my fingers."

_Holy shit. Is he thinking of putting them inside me?_

His right hand cups my breast, covering it entirely with the palm. It's nothing but entrancing, the feeling of James holding and owning such a sensitive part of me with those strong hands of his. And, surprisingly, my breast isn't large for his hand. He truly is big everywhere – at least as far as I can see.

"Your boobs were made for my hands," he hums, blown pupils admiring how perfectly our bodies fit together.

I swallow down a moan, consumed by the urge for more friction. I feel a strange twitch in my groin. I think I want him to touch me there, but I don't know what would happen if he did. And I can't seem to find the strength to ask him such thing.

Out of the blue, there's another gentle squeeze on my chest and my hands are free. I turn my face away, not baring the orgasmic way James is staring at me. His unrelenting hands work on my heating skin again and again, massaging my sensitive breasts, teasing me to a state of insanity.

I struggle to keep my arms above my head, but I assume he'd want them there until further instructions. So I grip the bedspread between my fingers, thinking I must be on the edge of delirium.

I'm almost letting out a dirty noise when James withdraws his hands completely, leaving my body deprived of any skin-on-skin touch. I squirm involuntarily, feeling abandon. But he just stares at a fixed point in my crotch. My eyes widen, expectant and fearful, as I flush crimson. What's gonna be his next move? Is there something wrong with me? Is he gonna leave?

And, just when I'm about to gain the courage to ask him, he snaps back to reality. Leisurely, his fingers work on pulling my pajama pants down to my knees. And I'm left in my panties. I know where this is going... _Holy Moly._

Self-conscious, I bow my head down to check which panties I have on. With all that's been happening in the last God-knows-how-many minutes since he came into my room, my memory was the least functional part of me. I almost sigh in relief when I notice it's the cotton white panties with lace on the hem, which sort of match my bralette perfectly.

"Please..." I beg, not sure what I'm pleading for.

James smiles, a slow, lazy, sexy smile that renders me speechless and all molten inside.

"What do you want, Miss Collins?" He asks.

I bite my lip. Calling me by my last name never sounded this good before. I feel like a woman – a powerful woman – for the first time in my life.

"I want your hand. Just your hand."

 _Jesus, did I just say that out loud?_ It's not just booze that makes me speak my mind anymore, but arousal too. Or James. I can't be sure.

I feel James stiffen above me, his breathing growing sharper. I wonder if he enjoyed what I said, or if I should've stayed silent. Maybe I sounded as inexperienced as I, in fact, am. _Fuck..._

"I would like you to beg. Again."

Before I can attend to his whims, I feel a tighter squeeze on my breast. I freeze from head to toe. He just put it in his mouth. And he's sucking on my nipple like a baby being fed. My legs press hard against each other at the sensation of yet another discomforting twitch down there. I know I'm close to orgasming – whatever that feels like.

"James, please..." I pant.

My back arches involuntarily, making me push my breasts into him. And he groans, with my overly-sensitive nipple in his mouth. I go wild with him, releasing a much-needed moan.

"Hush," he admonishes when he lets go of my abused breast. "I'm going to give you what you want now."

Something odd presses against my thigh. My eyes ogle the bulging intruder awakening between our bodies. _Oh... Oh._ His erection. And it feels as grandiose as predicted. I don't know how to react to its well-manifested presence. I've never seen - much less felt - one. It's a mix of weird, intimate and erotic. I want to grind against it but, at the same time, I feel awkward even thinking about it.

_My boobs are that powerful,_ _I amuse myself amid the torrid pleasure._

His clean, musky fragrance washes over me when he leans closer to kiss my neck.

"May I take off your panties?" he whispers.

 _What?_ Suddenly it dawns on me that I haven't shaved _there_. I mean, it's Fall and I never expected him or anyone else to come by, much less do these things.

"I thought we were short on time." I'm quick to remark, to my great surprise.

"That's an insightful observation, Miss Collins. But I can get them off in a second."

_Oh._

"I'm sure you can."

I can't help wondering how many women he's been intimate with before me. With his exceptional beauty, sex-appeal and intelligence more than ten, I'm sure. But who am I to be jealous? We're not in any sort of relationship. He says he fancies me, but we've never went on a date or talked much at all. For all I know, I might be just another one-time hookup.

"Unless you don't want me to."

The choice is in my hands, and I can either listen to my body or my reason. I want him to keep doing these new, mind-blowing things to me for as long as we can. But, at the same time, doubt has started growing on me. I've never been one to mess around with the first guy who sweet talks me. Still, I can't bring myself to push him off and tell him goodbye.

"I want them on, if you may," I say, my mind made up. Even if I were to regret tonight, he'd still have not taken all my intimacy.

"As you please," he agrees, and, finally, his palm reaches my lady parts.

It startles me, the carnal sensation of being touched _there_ , where I have the most nerve endings. It's overwhelming; the most intense physical contact I've ever experienced.

He gropes me, pressing kindly into me as if saying "this is mine". And I want to moan, move my arms, anything to free all this built-up tension. But I want to obey him, too, even though I have no obligation to do so.

"Touch me," he says, like he can read my mind. I hesitate, unsure of what to do and where to touch him. There seem to be no limits, but I'm confident he has his like I have mine. "Go on."

I bring my hands to his face - a safe zone – and run my thumbs across his stubble, the corners of his mouth, his soft, manly jawline... James shuts his eyes momentarily, leaning against my touch.

 _He likes it,_ I glisten and grin with pride in my mind.

When he moves his hand in circular motions everything becomes hotter – every inch of my body, the thick, lustful air around us, him... I want to give in, but I'm afraid it's too soon.

"Is this what you wanted?"

"Yes," I nod, all hot and bothered, and he increases the pressure on my sex.

His hands no longer move in circles, but up and down, rubbing the nub of my pleasure with intent. _Holy fuck!_

My mouth falls open but makes no sound at all. I know I'm close. I'm so close.

"Will you come for me?" He whispers onto my ear and his smoky, British accent throws me over the edge.

All I see is a white blurry version of my surroundings, and I feel my soul leave my body for the time it lasts. It feels better than it could ever be put into words. Like a different universe full of all the best sensations humans never though they could experience.

I never in my wildest dreams imagined this was what sexual encounters felt like. I've read about them, but it's much more than what's put on paper. Much more emotionally immersive and scarring. It's allowing someone else to strip you off of any fear or shame, leaving you bare and vulnerable to be touched in the most intimate way – mind, body and soul.

I feel brisk hands shaking my body, too persistently.

"What?" I mumble, wanting to ignore everything but my warm, heavenly bed. I open my eyes for a split second and find Eleanor standing by my bed. I can see the daylight filling the room before I rub my blurry eyes.

Why is she waking me up? I'm pretty sure I still have a few more hours left of sleep.

"Rubs, it's late!"

Those words alone are enough to get my heart race as high as when I work out.

"Shit. I didn't hear my alarm!"

I jump out of my bed immediately, feeling far too anxious for my liking. Oh, how I hate being in a rush in the mornings...

Eleanor is already dressed and, by the looks of it, has her appetite satisfied as well. On one hand, I'm glad she let me sleep for as long as possible. My body is working on purely on stress and exhaustion. On the other hand, I'm angry she didn't wake me up when she did so I could spare myself the rush.

"There's a Tylenol and an apple in your bag," she says, throwing her brown leather jacket on. "I'm gonna grab you a coffee and I'll wait for you in class. Black, strong and sweet, yeah?"

Wow. Actually, she'd be the perfect personal assistant.

"Yup," I agree as I slowly find my face in the mirror. Ugh... Bad hair day. Just to top it all off. "Thank you!"

"No problem!"

Once she's out, I begin the most summed up version of my high school morning routine: brushing my hair, tying it in a loose ponytail and heading for my dresser to pick out the first decent outfit I come up with.

Hastily, I lay a slightly cropped navy blue sweater and black high-waisted jeans on my unmade bed. Before I start getting dressed, I remember I didn't shower last night.

"Double shit..."

The clock ticks 7:37 a.m. I wonder if I can manage to squeeze in a quick shower. I have to. I can't go out afraid I'm smelling of sweat and booze. Plus, the magical powers of cold water will wake me up for good.

Grabbing my plain white towel and my old necessaire, I run to the shared bathroom. I'm glad and relieved and everything in between to find it empty.

I turn the faucet on and the water runs spring-cold over my hand. It's too much for this breeze autumn morning. I move the handle of the shower to the middle and begin taking off my clothes – as quick as I can, so no one sees me in the nude. I lay my pajamas on the tiny shower sill on the corner and take out my bath gel and hair products.

Once the water is slightly warm and bearable, I jump in the shower, telling myself I have to get out as soon as I'm cleaned.

My head flies to last night, unbidden. To James' lips and body on mine, to be more precise. I find myself smiling like a fool at the remembrance. The way he touched me, I never thought it could be possible. He's so experienced, so irresistible. But I can't dwell on that subject. I have a class to attend in less than thirty minutes.

And that's when I remember something crucial: I'm heading to French. James' class. _Jesus Christ... This man will be the death of me._

After I shampoo my hair, I leave the conditioner on while I scrub my body with my favorite raspberry gel. That was the most effective and quick way I've found after many morning showers.

When I rinse my whole body, I grip my hair to stop it from dripping all over the ground and wrap myself in my clean towel. I head back to my room, content I didn't find a single soul on my way, but lost about what time it was. _Am I terribly late? Did I succeed?_

Getting dressed at the speed of light, I pray on the latter.

All of a sudden, James' smoky voice plays in my mind: " _It wouldn't be the end of the world if you came in an hour later because you were having your beauty sleep."_

My cheeks gain color from his compliment. Again.

I roll my eyes as I gather my hair and redo my wavy ponytail. Glancing back at the clock, I realize I don't have more than two minutes to get to my class. So this freshly-showered, messy-haired, bare-faced situation would have to do.

Grabbing my bag and searching for an extra dose of confidence to tell me I am pretty enough to pull this bare look off, I head out into the world.

It is no surprise I find the massive caramel wooden door of my French class shut closed when I arrive. Seven minutes late – if my watch is matching his, by any chance.

After I take a deep breath, I gather the courage in me to knock twice, afraid all eyes would lay on me once I got inside – specially James'. Gently, I turn the knob and the door forces itself open before me, almost knocking me down.

Once I manage to gain balance back, I find James standing in front of me – so close to me, all so suddenly. _Wow, that was unexpected._

My eyes light up at the sight of him. He's so darn beautiful, it's almost surreal. And he was in my room last night, all over me, touching me everywhere.

"Hello, Mr. Wallace. Sorry I'm late." I mutter, still partly unstable, my voice breathy from my Phoebe Buffay-like 'majestic run' . "Can I come in?"

"Hello, Mrs. Collins," he greets me in a secretive tone, before he takes a step back and his voice becomes loud and stern. "You're late."

_What? Was he lying? The bastard!_

"I know. I'm deeply sorry. Won't happen again." I blush, fixing a few loose strands behind my ears. I really shouldn't have gotten it layered this Summer.

"Promise." He demands.

As if it wasn't enough humiliation being tricked by his evil little game, the entire class was staring at us – ones directly, others glancing back and forth. I can only hope they aren't able to hear us. My eyes find their way back to James' teal orbs, like a safe port to land. But my reason told them otherwise. _Was last night nothing but a game?_ I have to wonder. After all, if he lied one time he could've lied many more.

I feel my eyes fill with warm tears. _No, I will not cry over this or any other idiot._ But I can't miss this class, even if it feeds his ego and it's a torture to endure.

Shaking my head from the sad reality of things, I accede:

"I promise, Mr. Wallace."

When James' frees the path for me to finally walk inside, I hush to my spot next to Eleanor. Thank God the sitting places remained the same. The last thing I needed was to be looking around the room like a lost kid searching for his parents in a public place.

James' prominent voice fills the classroom behind me:

"Without further interruptions, let's pick up where we left off."

My insides cower painfully, as if I ate something spoiled. I almost did, last night. But in reality I haven't eaten nothing at all.

"Hey. What just happened there?" Eleanor's tremendous curiosity salutes me as she hands me the white-hot coffee.

I pull my chair to sit down and lay my oh-so-needed daily dose of caffeine over my desk. My head was spiraling and confounded like never before. At eight in the fricking morning.

"Nothing worth recalling." I rip her growing expectations by the root.

Placing my notebook and pen on the desktop, I notice Eleanor is still staring at me. I turn to face her and find her dubious glossy pout and squinted hazel eyes on me.

"Something happened..." She drawls out, self-assuredly. "If you don't want to tell me now, you'll tell me later."

"Okay."

And I choose to end the conversation there. Too many things to think about, too many things to focus on... But everything in its right time and place.

I take a sip of my coffee, not caring if James finds that offensive or "interrupting the class". And it's just on point. The very first thing that went well this morning.

When I'm capable of looking away to begin paying attention to the class, I come face to face with the most distant version of James I've ever seen. Even more of a stranger to me than before I met him at the Masquerade Ball. How does someone change so drastically from the night to the day? Literally. For crying out loud! How can people hurt someone and go on about their lives like it's no big deal? Do some humans not have any feelings at all?

And this new realization wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that he was one of those humans - a rich, heartless playboy – and I was still under his spell.


	5. * THE CAST *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys prefer reading here instead of in Wattpad, I might post all the chapters here as well. Just let me know in the comments! Xx

About the CAST

This story was initially supposed to have Klaroline (Klaus & Caroline from The Vampire Diaries) as the main relationship. Meanwhile, I came across Adelaide Kane and she was just the perfect fit for my main character - Ruby.

In my mind Ruby was always a naturally beautiful brunette, strong young woman. Although, you can picture Caroline (Candice King) if you prefer, or any other woman - living or imaginary.

As the author of this book, all I want is to make you feel; to put you in this world I created while you're reading. In spite of that, of course I would ideally want you to picture every character with the cast I made - it would be as if you're perfect and utterly getting the message I desire across. It's as if you're really living in the world I wrote about. But you're free to let your imagination fly.

Adelaide Kane as **Ruby Collins**

Joseph Morgan as **James Wallace**

Phoebe Tonkin as **Eleanor Zara**

Nicholas Hoult as **Michael Felt**

Claire Holt as **Bianca Lawson**


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